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cheynovak · 6 months ago

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Echoes and Shadows

Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: Fights, gunshots, mentioning of child abuse, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language

Words: 3800

Cursive are memories

*Does not follow the boys storyline *

Autumn of 1950, Soldier Boy, the embodiment of rugged heroism and Vought-American's premier supe, was summoned to a high-rise office overlooking New York City. The meeting was brief, direct, and left a bitter taste in his mouth.

His new assignment: train a young girl named Y/N, a fresh supe with a "girl next door" persona. To Soldier Boy, it felt like a waste of time. Why did he had to train her, there had to be other tasks for the world’s greatest hero!

When they first met, Y/N stood in stark contrast to the grizzled Soldier Boy. She had an optimistic gleam in her eyes and a smile that seemed permanently etched on her face. She was eager to learn, but Soldier Boy couldn’t stand her naivety.

“Listen up, kid,” he grumbled during their first training session. “Being a supe isn’t about smiles and handshakes. It’s about getting the job done. And sometimes, it gets messy. I don’t think you can handle that."

Y/N shook her head, determination shining in her eyes. “I can handle it. I want to help people, no matter what it takes.” Soldier Boy sneered. “We’ll see about that.” He was relentless in his training.

Every day, he pushed her to her limits, both physically and mentally. Gruelling obstacle courses, intense combat drills, and brutal sparring sessions became her new routine. Whenever she stumbled, he was there with a cutting remark.

“Come on, sweetheart, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunt. “Real heroes don’t get tired. Real heroes don’t complain.” Despite his harshness, Y/N refused to give up. She endured his gruelling regimen with a quiet resilience that began to chip away at Soldier Boy’s disdain.

She didn’t just want to be a hero; she wanted to prove herself, and her perseverance was impossible to ignore. One day, during a particularly brutal training exercise, Soldier Boy pushed her to the edge.

She was exhausted, her body bruised and battered, but she stood her ground. “Why do you keep doing this?” he demanded, his voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. “Why don’t you just quit? You’re too soft for this job.”

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. “Because I believe in doing the right thing. Because I believe in helping people, no matter how hard it gets. And because I know I can be a hero, even if you don’t believe it.” He rolled his eyes "Sure sweetheart."

Months passed, and Y/N grew stronger, more skilled, and more confident, and as her confidence grew so did her abilities. Y/N seemed to be able to put up a defence barrier, holding back bullets, if she concentrated good enough, she could even use it as an extra force to her punches. Besides that, she healed quick and what time would tell, didn’t age.

She always kept that kindness in her eyes, but it was now tempered with a steely resolve. She had become everything Soldier Boy had initially doubted she could be. One evening, after a particularly grueling session, Soldier Boy handed Y/N a cold beer.

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. She stared at it for a moment, hesitating. "I'm only 18," she said softly, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. Soldier Boy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Stop being such an uptight bitch all the time. It's just a beer." Y/N took the bottle reluctantly, the cool glass against her palm feeling unfamiliar and slightly intimidating. She hesitated, then took a small sip.

The bitterness of the beer mirrored the bitter moments she had faced during training, the relentless drills, and Soldier Boy’s cutting remarks. They sat in silence for a while, the city’s night sounds filtering in through the open window.

Y/N glanced at Soldier Boy, trying to decipher the man behind the harsh exterior. “Why did you agree to train me?” she asked quietly. Soldier Boy took a long swig from his own bottle before answering.

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Vought’s orders.” He paused, his gaze distant. “But you’re not as hopeless as I thought." Y/N felt a small swell of pride at his words. Coming from Soldier Boy, it was high praise indeed.

She took another sip, the beer tasting a little less bitter now. “Thanks,” she said with a little smile, proud of the first compliment her childhood hero gave her. Soldier Boy grunted in response.

Present day

Y/N had left the noise and chaos of the city far behind, finding solace in the peaceful rhythm of farm life. The fields stretched out in a patchwork of greens and browns, and the farmhouse, with its weathered wood and creaking floors, stood as a testament to a simpler, quieter existence.

She was tending to her garden when she saw them approaching: a group of men, rough around the edges and clearly out of place in the tranquil countryside. Her guard went up immediately.

Butcher, with his perpetual scowl, led the way, his intense gaze locking onto her. Hughie followed, looking slightly out of his element but determined. Frenchie and Kimiko were close behind, each with their own brand of intensity.

But it was M.M., standing a bit apart from the rest, who caught her attention. There was a steadiness in his eyes, a calm that seemed at odds with the chaos that surrounded the group.

Y/N straightened up, wiping her hands on her apron as they came to a stop in front of her. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice cold and wary. Butcher stepped forward, but M.M. gently placed a hand on his shoulder, signalling him to let M.M. handle it.

Butcher hesitated, then nodded, stepping back with a reluctant grunt. “Miss Y/N, my name is MM, I, no we, need your help. Taking down Homelander.” Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "And why would I help you? I retired to the countryside for peace. "

M.M. nodded, as if he understood. "I get it. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t just about revenge or taking down supes for the sake of it. We found out about a weapon, something that could kill Soldier Boy. If it can kill him, it can kill Homelander. And... it could probably kill you too. I presume you want to keep living?"

She flinched at that, the reality of her vulnerability striking a chord she didn’t want to acknowledge. "Why should I trust you?" she asked, her voice softer but still laced with suspicion. "Because we’re trying to do the right thing," M.M. said simply.

"We’re trying to protect people. And I think, deep down, that’s what you’ve always wanted to do too. You’ve got no reason to trust us, but we don’t have any reason to lie to you either. We need your help to find this weapon. If it exists, it’s our best shot at stopping Homelander. And if we don’t, a lot of innocent people are going to die."

There was a long silence as Y/N weighed his words. She glanced at the other members of The Boys, reading the desperation and determination etched into their faces. Finally, she looked back at M.M., seeing in him a glimmer of the same hope and resolve that had once driven her.

"Alright," she said at last, her voice steady. "I’ll help you. But only because I believe someone needs to stop Homelander. And if you’re lying to me, I’ll make sure you regret it." M.M. smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression.

"Fair enough. We’re grateful for your help, Y/N." As they began to discuss their plan, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. She had tried to leave her past behind, but it seemed the fight for justice had found her once again. And this time, she was determined to see it through to the end.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the farm, Y/N found herself alone for a moment, she agreed they could stay at her place for the night. She leaned against the porch railing, enjoying the cool breeze.

Her mind wandered back to her time as a supe, a life that seemed so distant now. Hughie approached hesitantly, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He had a look of curiosity mixed with apprehension.

"Hey," he started, a bit awkwardly. "Mind if I ask you something?" Y/N glanced at him, her guard momentarily lowered. "Sure, go ahead." Hughie shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking around the porch.

"I noticed there aren’t many pictures of you. Almost none, actually. W-why is that?" She laughed, a sound tinged with both amusement and bitterness. "Vought made sure the world would forget about me," she explained.

"When I left, they erased almost every trace of my existence. Photos, records, everything. They didn’t want anyone to remember a supe who walked away from it all." Hughie nodded, taking in her words. "That's... harsh. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, considering Vought."

Y/N sighed, her eyes distant. "Yeah, that's Vought. Controlling the narrative, always." There was a pause, then Hughie asked another question that had been on his mind. "What was Soldier Boy like?" Y/N's expression softened, a mix of nostalgia and sadness crossing her face.

"He was... complicated. A real hard-ass, tough as nails, and absolutely relentless. He could be a real jerk, too, always pushing people to their limits, addict... you name it.” A little pause, she added more a reminder to herself than to him, “But underneath all that, he was just... human."

Hughie listened intently, sensing there was more to the story. "Did you ever get along with him?" She smiled faintly. "Eventually, yes. It took a while." Hughie looked thoughtful. "Do you think he would have been able to help us with Homelander, if he was still around?"

Y/N shrugged, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "It's hard to say. Soldier Boy was powerful, but he had his own flaws and demons. He might have helped, or he might have made things worse. We'll never know."

The next day they left for Russia

The private plane hummed steadily as it cut through the night sky, its cabin dimly lit. The Boys were scattered around, each lost in their thoughts or quietly discussing their plan. Y/N sat by a window, staring out into the inky blackness.

Butcher had a lead on the weapon that supposedly killed Soldier Boy, and they were heading to Russia to find it. As the drone of the engines filled her ears, Y/N felt herself slipping into a memory, a flashback to a mission that had happened decades ago in Russia, during her time with Soldier Boy.

The mission was critical, a high-stakes operation deep in enemy territory. Y/N and Soldier Boy were tasked with infiltrating a heavily fortified facility to retrieve vital intelligence. The plan was simple: she would create a distraction as he got the job done.

They had worked out the details meticulously, but plans rarely survived first contact with the enemy. Y/N had managed to draw the guards’ attention, using her powers to create enough chaos to give Soldier Boy the opening he needed. It worked, until she got shot multiple times.

She found herself cornered in a narrow hallway, the walls lined with steel and concrete. There was no way out. Gunfire echoed around her, the sharp sound of bullets ricocheting off the walls. She took cover behind a weak force shield, her heart pounding.

She could hear the guards closing in, their footsteps growing louder. As one hand shield her the other pushed down on her leg to stop the bleeding. "I’m trapped!" she shouted into her comm.

"There’s no way out!" For a few agonizing moments, there was only static in response. Then, his voice crackled through. "Hold on, kid." The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as she waited, the sound of gunfire and shouting closing in.

She fought off the guards as best she could, using her powers as offence instead to keep them at bay, but she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. Just when she thought it was over, an explosion rocked the hallway. The steel door at the end of the corridor burst open, and there he was.

Soldier Boy, a look of fierce determination on his face. He tore through the guards with brutal efficiency, clearing a path to her. "Let’s go!" he shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet. Together, they fought their way out of the facility, Soldier Boy covering her as they made their escape.

When they finally reached the extraction point, she collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily grabbing her leg. "You okay?" he asked, kneeling beside her, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he tied on of his belts around her leg. She nodded, looking up at him with a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. "Thanks for coming back for me."

He shrugged, but there was a softness in his eyes.

The memory faded, and Y/N found herself back on the plane, the steady hum of the engines replacing the echoes of the past. She glanced around at the faces of The Boys, each one focused on the mission ahead. She felt a renewed sense of purpose, a reminder of why she had joined them.

M.M. caught her eye from across the cabin, giving her a reassuring nod. She returned it with a small smile. The private plane landed in a secluded airstrip in Russia under the cover of night.

The Boys, along with Y/N, moved swiftly through the dense forest surrounding the remote facility where they believed the weapon that killed Soldier Boy was hidden. The facility loomed ahead, a monolithic structure guarded by heavily armed soldiers and state-of-the-art security systems.

Butcher led the way, his eyes sharp and focused. "Alright, stay close and keep it quiet. We don’t want to alert the whole damn place." They approached the facility’s perimeter, M.M. disabling the security cameras and motion sensors with expert precision.

They slipped inside, navigating the labyrinthine corridors with a mix of stealth and speed. But their luck didn’t hold for long. As they rounded a corner, they came face-to-face with a squad of Russian soldiers. For a moment, time seemed to freeze.

Then, chaos erupted. Butcher was the first to react, launching himself at the nearest soldier with a fierce battle cry. His fists connected with brutal efficiency, taking the soldier down before he could raise his weapon.

The sound of gunfire exploded around them as the rest of the squad sprang into action. Y/N used her powers to create a force field, deflecting bullets and giving The Boys a chance to take cover. She felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, her senses sharpening as the fight intensified.

Frenchie and Kimiko moved as a deadly pair, Frenchie’s precise gunfire complemented by Kimiko’s lethal hand-to-hand combat skills. Hughie, still relatively new to the chaos of battle, ducked behind a crate, his heart pounding.

He peeked out, firing his weapon at the soldiers, hitting one in the leg and causing him to drop his gun. M.M. took advantage of the opening, charging forward and disarming the soldier with a swift, practiced move. He turned, his eyes scanning the room for the next threat.

"Y/N, cover us!" Butcher shouted, taking down another soldier with a vicious uppercut. Y/N nodded, focusing her energy to create a larger shield, pushing back the advancing soldiers. She could feel the strain, but she held her ground, giving The Boys the chance to regroup and counterattack.

As the fight raged on, they moved deeper into the facility. The corridors echoed with the sounds of battle, gunfire, shouts, and the clash of metal. They fought their way through waves of soldiers, each skirmish bringing them closer to their goal.

Finally, they reached a heavily reinforced door at the heart of the facility. Butcher and M.M. worked quickly to breach the door, using a combination of explosives and brute force. The door blew open with a deafening blast, revealing a dark, cold chamber beyond.

They stepped inside, weapons raised, ready for anything. The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with strange, high-tech equipment. In the centre a large, metal cryogenic chamber, Butcher ripped the door off.

"Bloody hell," Butcher muttered, lowering his weapon slightly.

Y/N stepped forward, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and recognition. She froze for a second, unable to believe her eyes. There he was...Soldier Boy encased in the cryogenic chamber.

The gas began to dissipate, and the machinery hissed as he torn the bands that had its grip on him. Ben’s eyes fluttered open, and he tumbled out of the container, gasping for air. "Ben!" Y/N shouted, rushing forward to catch him before he hit the ground.

She knelt beside him, her arms around his shoulders, steadying him as he struggled to regain his balance. For a brief moment, their eyes met. She saw confusion and recognition flicker in his eyes, but it quickly turned to something darker rage.

His expression twisted with fury, and his body began to glow. "Ben, it’s me, Y/N," she pleaded, her voice filled with desperation. But her words didn’t seem to reach him. The radiation started to build, the air around him crackling with energy.

Before Y/N could react, Kimiko lunged forward, pushing her aside just as a blast of radiation erupted from Ben’s body. The force of the blast sent through the wall. The smoke and debris settled slightly, revealing Ben staggering through the chaos, his steps heavy and disoriented.

His chest still glowed with residual energy, and he seemed to be in a daze, not fully aware of his surroundings. Ben, stop!" Y/N cried, her voice breaking with emotion. She took a step forward, her heart aching at the sight of him in such a state. but he walked away.

As they returned to America, Y/N's mind was filled with a tumult of emotions. They had narrowly escaped Russia, but Kimiko's injuries weighed heavily on her. She watched as Butcher spoke to the team, his tone gruff and dismissive.

"Soldier Boy isn't our problem," he said, his words cutting through the air. Y/N felt a surge of anger and frustration rise, she wanted to stay and find him. But she understood Kimiko needed help. “Why would he do that?” Hughie asked.

Y/N’s mind drifted away.

It was a late night, the night before the announcement of Payback as Soldier Boy's new team. Y/N had returned home after a long day of training, only to find Ben sitting on her couch, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a weary expression on his face.

She couldn’t help but be annoyed at the sight of him. "What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, her voice mingled with concern. Ben shrugged, taking a swig from the bottle. "Figured you owed me one since I saved that pretty little ass of yours."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Fine. What's wrong?" As she settled onto the couch beside him, she couldn’t help but notice the sadness in his eyes, the weight of the world on his shoulders. "What’s eating you, Ben?" she asked, her tone gentle.

Ben sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm a fucking disappointment" he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “What?” Y/N asked before she listened as he opened up about his father’s abuse, the years of torment and neglect.

Ben's father was a formidable presence in his life, but not in the way a father should be. He was a hard man, cold and unyielding, his words like knives cutting into Ben's fragile sense of self-worth.

From a young age, Ben was subjected to his father's wrath, enduring physical and emotional abuse that left scars both seen and unseen. His father's beatings were brutal and frequent, leaving Ben battered and bruised, his spirit broken.

But it was the words that cut the deepest, the constant reminders of his perceived failures, the insults hurled at him like daggers. He was called weak, a disappointment, a disgrace to the family name.

For years, Ben internalized his father's harsh judgments, believing himself to be unworthy of love or respect. He built walls around his heart, his rough exterior a shield against the pain and rejection he had endured for so long.

He learned to bury his emotions deep, to keep people at arm's length, lest they see the vulnerability he tried so desperately to hide.

Y/N had seen glimpses of Ben's pain before, but it wasn't until that night, when he had opened up to her about his father, that she truly understood the depth of his suffering. She saw the scars, both physical and emotional, that his father had left behind.

She saw the pain etched into his features, the vulnerability he rarely showed to anyone else. And in that moment, she understood him in a way she hadn’t before. "Why did you put up with it?" she asked, her voice soft.

Ben shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "It’s not that simple, Y/N. You don’t just walk away from family, no matter how screwed up they are." Y/N reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You’ve got people who care about you, you know that right?" As their eyes met, and Y/N saw something flicker in Ben's gaze, a mix of emotions surged within her.

But before she could fully process them, Ben leaned in, his intention clear. His lips moved towards hers, seeking solace in the warmth of the moment. Y/N's heart raced, her instincts conflicting with her emotions. As his lips hovered inches from hers, her fingers landed gently on his lips, halting his advance.

"Ben," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with regret. "This isn't a good idea." She had thought about this moment before, wondered what it would be like to be with him. But now, with him drunk and high on who knows what, she couldn't bring herself to take advantage of him in this vulnerable state.

It wouldn't be fair to either of them. Ben's expression shifted from longing to confusion, then to frustration. He pulled away abruptly, his eyes clouded with anger and hurt. "Fine," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "Your loss."

Y/N watched him go, her heart heavy with regret. She knew she had made the right choice, but that didn't make it any easier to see him walk away. She never wanted to hurt him.

As she heard MM talking to Frenchie and Kimiko she looked over. Seeing how badly Kimiko was hurt.

Knowing she needed to find Ben ASAP before he hurts anymore people.

To be continued...

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#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #soldier boy #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys fanart #they boys series #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #jensen fucking ackles #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy #the boys jensen #fight scene #flashback #Shadows and Echoes fanfic

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lullabyes22-blog · 18 days ago

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my supreme, what is your opinion on the first three episodes of arcane season 2?

hhfdgffd

The only supreme is Fortiche - and a huge round of applause to them for the animation in S2. Every frame is like lickable visual cake icing and my eyeballs scream for more.

Also in keeping with food metaphors -

First 3 eps are good soup. Tasty soup. Well-presented soup.

However.

There are clumps in this soup that were absent in S1. The flow is not as seamless. Transitions feel jarring and the dialogue overall feels distinctly more flavorless. First time I watched S1, there were entire lines of dialogue I ended up memorizing, and that dialogue continues to pack a well-deserved punch 3 years later.

This time around, the scripts feel distinctly more... Marvel-esque?

High on quip calorie, low on substantive content.

I highly suspect there was a great deal of executive meddling behind the scenes, given corporate were not expecting Arcane to crunch the numbers it did + the scripts being incomplete. That, and the storyline kept getting passed between different writing departments, with different chefs trying to spice the broth. All of this might account for the relative lack of cohesion and its weird sense of hypercompression

I don't know if it'll improve or get worse. We're only at 3 eps, and the rest of the story's still waiting to be told, so I reserve any real criticism until then.

But overall, yeah.

It's still gourmet soup, but I feel as if the soup's been zapped in a microwave, ykwim?

Beyond that, the series is still a treat. Truly sumptuous soundtrack, and inspiring cinematography. The fight scenes legit made me catch my breath. You can feel the love poured into every frame.

Fuhrer Caitlyn gassing Zaun was not on my Bingo card, tho.

Nor was Jesus Viktor.

I am A-OK with the Arcane eating Heimerdinger. But gimme back Jayce and Ekko, pls. They got character arcs (and ship breakups) to suffer through </3

I also do not think the writers of the show were expecting world affairs to pivot quite the way they have - /gestures vaguely at RL - because leaving aside character motivations in a self-contained fictional setting, the critical literary lens and interpretive optics between Zaun and Piltover overall are gonna lead to some, hehehe, interesting fandom discourse.

On my part, I can't wait to see every single one of these beloved characters spiral to the depths, hit rock bottom, and hopefully climb back out as wiser human beings.

I also expect some of 'em to die.

:')

Overall: 8/10. Very yummy indeed.

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lilisgardensblog · 1 year ago

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Stream theory! time:

I am here to write my thoughts about the Neuvillette part of the stream/trailer, feel free to share yours too!

"The Melusines can't be trusted! That goes for Neuvillette too!"

So, first I have to say I'm heartbroken to hear that the Melusines and Neuvillette can't be trusted, but idc idc i trust them no matter what. And the Melusines saying: "I'm confident that we'll find the meaning of our existence one day" truly broke my heart.

To keep going with the Neuvillette angst we have The Chief of Justice himself saying: "I find it difficult to express my emotions, because I cannot fully understand myself" The struggle to deal with accusations from your own people that they don't trust you while being unable to show them how you really feel... and to add to that whatever rumours saying that u were born from calamity?? I'm so confused and sooo hyped to get the full lore.

'is this what justice means to u? answer me neuvillette!'

First, let me point out THE VOICE ACTING FOR THIS LINE IS CHEF KISS. It sends shivers down my spine every time I hear it. And every time I hear it I'm thinking, what verdict did Neuvillette come to for Wrio to deliver such a powerful line? Maybe it's about Lyney and Lynette? Because we hear Freminet asking Wrio about his siblings and I'm thinking that maybe Wrio goes and demands an explanation from Neuvillette?

"You will see much in the human world, from the delightful to the depressing and one day, when you have dwelt among humanity long enough, you will be placed to bring judgement over all, as the spokesperson for Fontaine's past"

Can't move on from this line without pointing out the informal addressing here. No Monsieur or anything. Straight up Neuvillette. I'm curious to see how close the characters are and why does Wrio sounds so hurt/betrayed.

edit: a lot of people told me the voice line is from an npc but im too tired to delete everything👍

THIS??? raised so many questions in my head it's crazy. it's unnecessary. The hold this last line has on me is absurd. I think it's directly addressed to Neuvillette and I'm curious why is he the one bringing judgement over all? why is he the one shown all alone in a grey and dull Fontaine?why not Furina? What does "spokesperson for Fontaine's past" suppose to mean??Like we already speculated about him being the Hydro Dragon, but this is *sniff* i smell GREAT storyline.

Genshin is about to drop heeeeavy lore and I'm here for it.

"its unnecessary to hold me in such high regard"

Last line in the trailer. Neuvillette said this right after being shown as one of the most powerful people in the whole nation really. He is either really modest or just tries to hide the fact that he's the most powerful in the nation. Or both. Honestly I'm not even sure of what to say about this, I just had to add it here because Neuvillette said it and I'm in whoo for him.

Him🤝Zhongli , fancy talking and acting like they don't have supreme power.

Last thought: this trailer was so powerful and sad over all. I'm expecting the archon quest to be an emotional rollercoaster with one or two emotional punches. I just know Neuvillette story will make me sob. Just look at him.

p.s. : I saw someone pointing out that the creators said that Neuvillette made a law so that the Melusines to be addressed as she/her and that fills my heart with joy. Neuvillette is shown to be oh so powerful and 'born from calamity' or whatever and yet he's one of the sweetest and kindest characters. 🫶🏼

Conclusion: i love neuvillette and idc about false accusations 😊🫶🏼

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin theory #genshin impact neuvillette #neuvilette x reader #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley #genshin freminet #genshin lyney #genshin lynette #genshin melusine #genshin impact scenarios #genshin fluff #genshin angst

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dcbbw · 16 days ago

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Knock, Knock

Dearest Tumblrs,

I know I have been MIA for the longest of times, but I haven’t left y’all yet. My father died 46 days ago. I’m still processing that, still getting used to the presence of his absence. I have spent the majority of 2024 caring for two parents while holding down a full-time job; differentiating between sickness and illness, conditions and diseases, and watching a loved one fall into an invincible decline and eventually succumb to the inevitable.

I have never experienced profound loss before, and it is a hurt unlike any other I have ever experienced. I thought because I was there, I saw it unfolding in real time 24/7 that I would be prepared when the time came.

I was not. I never was.

I’m still grieving, still reeling from the sucker-punch that is death, still tiptoeing around a landmine of emotions, all while being a productive employee and dutiful daughter and caretaker to my remaining parent.

I don’t sleep well (and haven’t for over a year), listening for bumps and cries in the night and waiting to hear my name called because I’m needed. I don’t go out unless it’s to run errands: grocery store, car maintenance, pick up prescriptions. I spend 9 hours at a paid job (forgoing my lunch hour so I can come home and make beds, empty commodes, and fix lunch for my mom; before dad’s decline got too bad, I fed them both).

There’s laundry to wash, dry, fold; bathrooms to clean, floors to mop, rooms to sweep and vacuum, meals to cook. Mail and packages have to be both sent out and brought in. And since dad left, I have to take care of what is left of his business as well as get help with keeping the house standing. The furnace had to be replaced; there was a gas leak and piping had to be repaired and restored. The main sewer line was clogged and had to be cleared. I still need to find a reliable yard person to rake and bag the leaves.

I’m strong because I have to be, not because I want to be.

During all of this, dealing with reality and life, all I wanted to do was write. To lose myself in worlds I create, to detach myself from transition and death and ever-mounting bills. My head is filled constantly with thoughts, ideas, and dialogue; perhaps now I may be able to find/make time and have more focus to get back to what calms me, what I feel I do well, and makes me happy.

I have so many stories to finish (my masterlist is a huge pile of incompletes) and start, but these are the stories and AUs in the works:

Babylon—Dolos: The Homeland AU dealing with international current events

Babylon—Belly of the Beast: The Homeland AU fictionalizing the 2024 election

Watercoolers and Coffeepots—the DC AU gang’s take on the 2024 election within the workplace

Sex and the Middle-Aged Divorcee—what’s it like being a 54-year-old woman in the world of online dating

Single—UnRomance is back with a follow-up to this storyline

Tuesday’s Child—an OC-centric story about a family whose patriarch is dying (any similarities between my family (or yours) is purely coincidental

Hospital Lost—a medical drama AU drawn largely on St. Elsewhere, ER, and Grey’s Anatomy which will be a crossover cluster. Imagine Open Heart with focus on emergency room patients and a lot more staff

I feel it’s only fair to warn you that I’ve decided to give up creative writing for writing creatively; if my writing reads/feels differently, this is the reason why.

This is all I have for now, but hopefully I will be back soon. Since I have ZERO idea who’s left, tagging the few I know are still active in the TRR/TRH/TRF sub-fandom. Feel free to let me know if you want on or off the taglist.

Tagging: @angelasscribbles @kristinamae093 @kingliam2019 @indiacater @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @bebepac

#dcbbw update

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hyperfixated-fan · 7 months ago

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I have some semi-coherent thoughts now. I want to specifically analyze that final scene and why that in particular had me bursting into tears. (I still can’t watch it without tearing up.) I use the term “analyze” loosely and really mean stick around and listen to me emotionally ramble.

FIRST of all, they hit us with grown up Omega, which automatically hits you in the feels because this is the naive, bright-eyed child we’ve watched be amazed by dirt now getting ready to head off and fight in the Rebellion.

Then, they hit us with her exchange with old man Hunter. We got that bittersweet ending in the best way possible.

This is the payoff. The Bad Batch has raised her well. She has grown up into the type of person who sees the injustices in the galaxy and wants to do something about it. It’s time for her to take up a cause and fight.

Hunter’s response. “And we want to keep you safe.”

Omega: “You have. But I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Hunter: “You’re our kid, Omega. You always will be.”

Admittedly, this exchange here hit me deep on a personal level as someone who’s going to be moving out very soon. It’s time to grow up and I want to do this to step into who I am meant to be. But I also know in my parent’s eyes, I’ll always be there little child. And that both warms and breaks my heart just as it does theirs.

My personal life aside, from a storyline perspective, it is adorable how Omega reassures Hunter that they have kept her safe. I mean, just look at her! Look at the bright young person you’ve managed to raise, Hunter. The father genes are strong in this one.

Omega tells him: “Hunter, you’ve all fought enough.”

This in it of itself is heartbreaking. The clones have all fought enough for a Republic that ultimately failed and discarded them. Clone Force 99 was fortunate to end up fighting for something worthwhile. For them, they fought for family and they ultimately won. And now, it is Hunter’s turn to lay down his arms to let the next generation take up the fight. And that stings because while he managed to eventually raise Omega in peace, he cannot fully shield her from having to bear the burden of war.

Honestly, I often think of Thrawn’s lines when talking to Hera and I think it’s applicable to Omega as well. “War is in your blood… You were forged by it.”

Here is Omega telling Hunter that it’s her fight. As a clone, it’s in her blood, in her genes, to fight. As a child raised on the tail end of the Clone Wars, it is her fight because she inherited it. As a person, it is her fight because she’s not one to stand aside while others are oppressed. Once again, a sign of how well-raised she is.

Hunter acknowledges Omega’s readiness, “I know you are… but I’m not.”

Oof. His admittance is a double edged sword. He knows she’s ready, he helped train her himself after all. It’s obvious he is so proud of her, but he doesn’t feel ready to let her go. Listening to his perspective really makes me tear up because it really gives insight on how my parents are handling my move. They don’t necessarily want to say goodbye but they are willing because they know I can accomplish what I set out to do.

THE HUG.

Yeah, I’m drowning in a sea of tears. This is so wholesome!

Before Omega boards her ship, Hunter is sure to tell her, “If you ever need us,

Omega need only say the word and you best believe her brothers are crossing the entire galaxy more than five times to be at her side.

And yeah, that makes me cry all the harder because I know my family will do the same.

And the goggles scene was such another bittersweet punch in the gut.

She’s definitely older than Tech was when he died, but the life she got to live on Pabu and what she’s going to do in the future is exactly why he sacrificed himself. She can live and live well. She’s forever going to be carrying a piece of him with her and carry on his legacy by utilizing the knowledge that he bestowed upon her. I’m definitely sobbing even harder. Tech girlies, I think denial is no longer an option.

Omega takes off in her ship and her theme swells in the background and it a scene of pure art and emotion. Batcher whines as she departs and I am so sad that Omega didn’t get to take Batcher with her because it parallels how I have to leave my fur babies behind!

The Bad Batch has showed us how change greatly affected everyone’s lives and how they learned to adapt to such changes. Yet, there was the constant that no matter what happened, family is still family and you can find a way to carry on to a brighter future.

Hunter’s final lines really get me, “It’s all right, girl. She’ll be fine.”

To me, I can almost take it as a message for myself. As the Bad Batch draws to a close and Omega steps into a new chapter, so must I. It’s rather daunting, but you know what, I’m gonna be fine and I’m gonna make it.

Whatever you are going through, just know you’re going to be fine as well.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #tbb hunter #clone trooper hunter #tbb omega #tbb tech #clone trooper tech

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gffa · 17 days ago

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I have been Processing My Feelings mostly through sleeping a lot (thanks, shark week), cleaning (so much stuff to be done, especially when you're on a budget so everything takes twice as much work), playing Pokemon Go (I SAW AN ARTICUNO, but it fled on me ): but that's okay, I know it only has like a 3% chance to get it, and if I saw one, maybe I'll see another sometime), and binging TV shows/YouTube videos. TV SHOWS THAT I HAVE HAD THOUGHTS ON: - FROM, season 3: I think it might have been a mistake to watch it week to week, because I've watched seven episodes now and it feels like hardly anything has happened this season, like, you only have ten episodes and the wait between seasons is so long! Get back to moving the plot forward! But a lot of people said the same thing about s2 and I found that one to move along great--but I binged the whole thing, so the pacing probably seemed better. I'm still invested, some emotional stuff has happened this season, but I want more answers/plot already!!!! - SHRINKING, season 2: Just as much of a comfort watch as the first season, still pulling a bunch of laughs out of me. The cast is incredible, the writing is funny (I'm a sucker for a Bill Lawrence show, though), and I have had genuine emotional reactions to some of the storylines this season, because I have come to care about the characters. It can be a light watch most of the time, one to put on when I want something to laugh at, but it can pack a punch in the way it needs to. - ENGLISH TEACHER: I think every episode got me to laugh at least once, most of them got me to laugh out loud multiple times. Some people are going to find it kind of preachy or tryhard, but I felt like it was trying to take an honest look at this one person's attempts to navigate the difficult societal elements at play (being gay in your 30s, no longer a kid, not a boomer, but not always seeing eye-to-eye with where the younger generation is, wanting to do the right thing versus not always knowing what that is, trying to be empathetic while being genuine, etc.), and if nothing else it got me with the sideswipe at Tumblr. That hurt, you guys, but also LOL. - 9-1-1, season 8: Still very much worth watching (especially every time Eddie is a hot mess and kind of a bitch, I've never loved him more), but I did not enjoy the Councilwoman Ortiz storyline (it felt more mean-spirited than I wanted) and I'm not looking forward to catching up on this week's episode (I've heard some of what happens), but overall, it's still a comfort place for batshit storylines. BEENADO WAS HILARIOUS, everything about Athena on the plane was fun (and less frustrating than her usual cop storylines, I love you, girl, but oh my god), and I even liked the Gerrard storyline by the end. Next to catch up on: Abbot Elementary, binge Squid Game s2 when it comes out, and finally watch The Devil Judge. (Watch, I'll have my schedule all planned out and then probably throw it out the window for Grotesquerie or something, SIGH.) Any other suggestions for comfort shows or just really bingeable recent shows or just tell me what you're watching, so that I can keep my brain off the doomscrolling track!

#lumi.txt #tv recs

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8aji · 2 years ago

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too busy saving everybody else to save yourself. // s.s.

to think of a life without him filled you up with such sorrow you thought you'd let yourself drown just to be with him one last time. — or, an account of the events that transpired after the night of august 14, 2003.

pairing. shinichiro sano x baji!reader

wc. 18k

tags/cw. MDNI, angst with happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, baji!reader (reader is baji’s sibling), manga spoilers, shinichiro lives, anxiety/panic attacks, smoking, mentions of death, characters cry a lot, mentions of head trauma + hospitals + needles + blood, reader gets called 'nee-chan' a couple of times but other than that its pretty gn, very suggestive (one make/out sesh), takeomi is clowned a lot + please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n. its finally done sob i spent so much time polishing this as much as i could and what was supposed to be a 1k drabble mutated into this lmfao but all in all this fic is my baby, my child, and i love it so so much i just hope y'all will like it as much as i do !! a massive thanks to @tetsutits for betaing and to @mosviqu for letting me run the storyline through her !! hope all of u enjoy lots n lots !!

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

One step, one blink, one breath, one step, one blink, one breath; like on autopilot, the pattern repeated itself over and over again. You could feel it beating inside your skull; the pounding of your heart resonated throughout your body, acting as the fuel behind your every move.

Your blurry gaze amplified all of your other senses, sending your brain into a downward spiral of emotional overwhelm; the loud keyboard clicking, the obnoxious chatter, the drinking and munching of coffee and donuts, all of it made you want to tear your ears off. How could the world keep turning, people existing like normal, while you were being consumed by the tightness enveloping your lungs? The thought made you want to light up the whole building, watch it burn as the flames simmered the concrete to ashes to relieve the turmoil brewing inside your body.

“I'm coming for Baji Keisuke?” You asked, barely managing to string the words together in a coherent sentence, head going a thousand miles per hour. “He’s my brother.”

The officer behind the desk pulled down his magazine, looking you over and taking in your dishevelled state. “Ah,” he sighed as soon as your brother's profile appeared on his screen. “Baji Keisuke, the little rascal with the breaking and entering charges, huh?”

lips forming into a thin line, you nodded, biting your tongue so as to not insult the man in front of you who, for some reason, couldn't help but chuckle, as if a twelve year-old kid being detained was funny.

“Can I see him?”

He gave you one last obnoxious glance, before typing on his computer.

“He’s currently under police custody,” he explained condescendingly as if you didn’t know, pulling a manila folder and pressing the button on the printer, handing you a pen in the meantime. “He's only got a minor charge compared to the other brat he came in here with,” He let out a quiet cackle, not wanting to attract anyone else’s attention. To you, it was like he acted this nonchalant to rile you up, make your blood boil. And, in spite of your reluctance to admit to it, it was working. Being in his presence made you want to punch him. “We’re betting on whether the other kid’s gonna get charged with manslaughter or not.

“And just between us,” he made a come hither motion, but leaned forward on his chair at your lack of reaction. “I’m betting in favor of manslaughter, so I'm crossing my fingers for the guy to die soon, ‘ya know?”

Had you been wearing long sleeves, he would’ve been able to see you rolling them up, emotionally prepared to be charged with aggravated assault against a police officer

Fortunately, another officer called out your name, catching your attention before you could act on the violent scenarios coursing through your brain. You didn’t bother excusing yourself before leaving to find your brother.

He looked small, smaller than he actually was, as he sat on the floor with both his knees close to his chest. His eyes were puffy and red, it was obvious he had been crying; though by the looks of it, he had yet to stop.

The cell door sounded like nails against a chalkboard as it scraped against the floor. It made him flinch in surprise, snapping him out of the borderline-dissociating trance as he looked up at the intimidating officer, trying to gauge his intentions while gathering all the energy he had left in his body to fight off the man just in case he needed to. But as soon as he made eye contact with you he could feel himself lowering his guard.

He didn’t even hesitate, his body moved on his own, running past the officer and straight into your arms, letting the harsh sobs he had tried bottling up rack his body, along with muffled apologies and incoherent explanations.

“It's okay,” you mumbled against his hair, trying to calm down his heart wrenching cries. He nuzzled his face against your neck, trying to get impossibly closer to the sound of your voice. You waited for him to nod, still clutching at your clothes with all the remaining energy he had. “He's strong, he’ll be alright.”

Though at this point you were unsure whether your words held any weight against the grand scheme of things; hopefully all your promises won’t turn into bold-faced lies.

You made your way out of the cell together, holding his left hand as he used the other to rub at his eyes, itchy and dry from all the crying. The two of you walked past a couple of cells before he stopped for what seemed like a millisecond, mumbling something under his breath in weak anguish. Had you not been hyper aware of everything going on around you, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight tug at your hand.

Kazutora sat on the floor the same way Keisuke did, knees pulled up to his chest, biting his cuticles raw to stop his brain from looping the traumatic set of events like a broken film; still, it wasn't enough to stop his whole body from trembling in shock. The distress fresh in his eyes made you want to drop everything just to hold him close, comfort him like you did with Keisuke.

But you didn’t have much time, the officer behind you pressured the both of you to move, and considering Keisuke remained under police custody, you weren’t willing to risk him getting locked up again now that you had him by your side.

“Wait for me over there, okay?” You said, pointing at the waiting area. “I just have to fill out some paperwork and then we can go home.” He held your hand even tighter in his grasp in response, as if he was scared to let go. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

Reluctantly, he dragged his feet as he walked, not wanting to stray far away from you. At least there was still some sort of stubbornness left in him. You’ve never seen him act like this, uncontrollably crying and apologising, devoid of the mischievous glint in his eyes. Knowing the Keisuke you knew was still there comforted you.

“How, uh, how much is bail gonna be?” You asked once he had made himself at home on the plastic chairs. Thankfully it was someone else behind the desk instead of the asshole you had the misery of interacting with.

You knew it wasn’t going to be cheap, already having a grasp of fines and bail costs thanks to your friends getting into trouble, but even with this knowledge, their response sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe you could use some of your own savings, or part of your college fund. Using your mom’s money was also an option, but you didn't want to put the burden on her. If you skipped a semester it could give you some time to earn the money back, but you were already behind in a few classes, and the minimum wage from part time jobs wouldn’t stack up too much, so was it truly feasible?

Fuck, you knew they were children but you couldn’t help but curse at their recklessness, their stupidity and naivety. Did they actually think stealing a bike would be that easy? And now you have to pay for the consequences, quite literally. Of course, you could always leave him here, let him face the consequences straight on. There was nothing forcing you to bail him out. But who were you kidding, you’d kill for him, of course you were going to pay.

Making sure he was still where you left him, you looked over your shoulder back at him. He was slumped over his knees, aimlessly playing with his fingers as his eyes fixated on the corridor leading to the cells, a solemn sadness washing over his features.

No.

You weren’t going to. You were going to pay for your brother’s sins, or whatever the cheesy line says, and leave to never look back. You didn’t owe this other kid anything, most certainly when you couldn't afford it. But, after knowing him for so long, the thought of him staying in the middle of four cold walls until further notice broke your heart.

“Actually,” you sighed. This was gonna cost two semesters instead of one. “Could I pay for someone else’s bail as well?”

At first, he refused to acknowledge your presence, biting harder into his fingers. He tried self-soothing through slow back and forth rocking motions and the unintelligible words that spilled from his mouth, hugging himself tighter the closer you got.

He didn’t move, frozen in place as if the lack of movement would make him invincible to the naked eye. He didn’t cave in no matter what you did, not when you kneeled in front of him nor when you whispered his name in hopes he would acknowledge your voice.

It only took a couple of seconds after that for him to shyly meet your gaze, warming up to you in an instant and clinging onto you just like Keisuke had done, though he did so with a lot more desperation, this sort of comfort foreign to Kazutora. He felt so small in your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder, the only thing he could do was claw at your body for reassurance. Other than that, he didn’t speak, didn’t cry, he almost didn’t move, to the point it had you questioning whether he was actually breathing.

Once you coaxed him out of the cell and got a hold of your brother, your sole focus was on guiding the boys beside you out of the precinct as fast as possible, one hand holding Keisuke’s while the other rested on the back of Kazutora’s head. They didn’t need to spend more time than necessary in this place, surrounded by grimy cell blocks and seemingly socially inept officers who couldn’t keep their rambunctious laughter down.

Wakasa was sitting on his bike outside the police station waiting for the three of you, and though initially it was supposed to be just the two of you riding along with him, he wasn’t surprised you paid for your brother’s friend’s bail. He kept a fairly laid-back exterior, lit cigarette hanging from his fingers replacing his preferred strawberry flavored lollipops, inhaling back the smoke that seeped from his parted lips and freaking out on the inside.

The two of you were hanging out when multiple calls blasted through your phone, prompting you to rush to where you were now. First it was one from the hospital, one of the bearers of bad news that didn’t let you dwell on the fact that Shinichiro had written you down as one of his emergency contacts. Then came the call from the police station, sinking your heart down to the bottomless pit in your stomach.

“Everything alright?” He asked, putting out his cigarette, smothering the stick with his boot along with the other three he had finished while you were inside.

You hummed in response, words dying in your throat. The silence around you itched and burned, made your skin prickle with discomfort, and even so, no one dared say anything besides the occasional noise of acknowledgement. They weren’t dumb. They were one-hundred percent aware of what they were doing, and this wasn’t something you could blame on their age either. Yes, they were kids, but a twelve year old should be able to discern right from wrong; aware that stealing is bad and that murdering people is wrong.

And deep down, you knew this was even more fucked up than it appeared to be. You knew Kazutora wouldn’t have cared for the victim had it not been Shinichiro. The only reason he was shaking like a leaf, flinching when Wakasa fastened the belt of his helmet against his head, was because he hurt Mikey’s brother. That’s not to say Keisuke was innocent, it was clear he wasn’t. Intentionally breaking into someone’s shop to steal a very valuable, very expensive, piece of equipment and potentially complicit in someone's murder.

You wanted to tear your eyes off at the thought. Did they really think they could get away with this? That it would be as easy as stealing some candy or gum from the corner store? You wanted to curse them out for being so stupid, so naive. But looking down at their sunken faces, eyes bloodshot and teary as they sweated fear from every pore on their fragile skin, it made you want to excuse all their horrid behaviour, ignore the fact they committed a crime and in the process they mortally wounded an innocent man.

You held down an involuntary gag at the violation of your principals, the memory of what had just gone down stirring unwanted bitterness inside your stomach. You were no one to criticise the two kids sitting between Wakasa and you. They could be stupid, but you were the weakest of them all.

“Let’s get going then.”

You could question your moral compass later, first you had to get them home.

The voices of the characters talking in the background faded into an uncomfortable white noise as your muscles dissolved along with your bones, breaking through your skin and seeping into the cushions of the couch. Each time you breathed in the more stressed you became at the uncertainty of your friend’s mortal status.

You hadn’t received any news from the hospital, and though you knew that if they hadn’t called by now, they probably wouldn’t at least until tomorrow morning, that didn’t stop you from imprisoning your phone close to your chest. Maybe if you channelled all your strength into your hold then you’d lose the urge to cry.

In spite of their initial resistance, it didn’t take long to put the kids to bed. The two of them drifted off to a bitter, yet hopefully replenishing, sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. It wasn’t surprising, the whole incident had drained the both of them to their core.

“‘Sure you’re okay?” Wakasa asked, and had it not been for his voice you're sure you would’ve dissociated the rest of the night. Maybe the kids would find you the next morning still sitting on the couch, frozen like a statue as you stared at the ceiling, and freak out because they’d think you had died along with ‘Shinichiro-nii’.

You hummed, it was the only response you could muster it seemed, with your eyes zeroing in on his shoulders, then his cheeks and then his earrings. Looking straight into his eyes would do you no good. It’d blow your cover in less than an instant, and though it’s fair to say it was a shit cover, amplifying your grief through your dejected silence instead of toning it down, it made you feel safer from the imminent doom. Still, shitty cover up or not, Wakasa knew you weren’t okay. You wouldn’t be able to fool him even if he was stupid, and at this point, he’s convinced you wouldn’t be able to fool anyone; a single glance your way was enough to tell you were silently crumbling.

He let his head fall backwards against the back of the sofa, sighing in acknowledgement. No matter how many times he asked, deep down he knew you would only cave in at your own account, But at least his question somehow managed to bring you back down from the maze your brain had started fabricating to earth. And maybe, just maybe, if he gave you enough space that’d prompt you to speak. He didn’t mind waiting. Not for a couple of seconds, or the couple of minutes those seconds turned into, or the couple of hours they mutated into next, and so on until days and weeks and years had passed, until the scarcity of time felt infinite.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” You broke the silence, biting the edges of your words as if you wanted to hide them back inside, voice shaky and heavy against your tongue.

He hesitated, sharing a seat next to you inside the same sinking uncertainty boat, “Shin-chan’s stronger than you think.” He tried reassuring you, or himself he wasn't sure, but at this point the more he tried to tell himself his friend was still breathing, the more it felt like a lie. Shin-chan was stronger than the two of you thought, but was he really? “He’d be heartbroken to know you had little faith in him.”

At least he got you to chuckle, “I’d be heartbroken to know that I was right.”

You fell into an uncomfortable silence not long after, the stakes of the conversation too high, and if you continued talking you’re sure you’d end up giving Shin up for dead. But like this, maybe you could finally force yourself to get some sleep. The weight of your eyelids had doubled, eyes growing heavier against your will, and though you didn’t want to, just in case something happened while you were unconscious, you knew you’d be of no use without at least a few hours of rest. Plus, you promised yourself you’d never lose any sleep over a guy, ever, and you weren’t about to make an exception for Shinichiro Sano.

Not even an hour in your slumber, you almost threw your phone to the other side of the room as its desperate cry pierced your ears. You’re sure Wakasa almost had a heart attack with how fast straightened up next to you, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it somehow managed to wake up both Kazutora and Keisuke, although your brother was more of a chronic heavy sleeper.

“What are you waiting for? Answer it!” Feelings heightened in his barely awake, panicked state, the desperation was palpable in his words. And though uncommon for him to act in such an erratic manner, he had bottled everything up the whole night, it was time for the stoic facade to break.

But, even so, in spite of your friend’s heartbreaking desperation you didn’t move. Not after the third ring or the fourth. You didn’t dare move, staying frozen on the couch, groggy from waking up yet hyper-aware of everything going on around you despite your mild dissociation. The sole thought of moving towards made your brain press against your skull, screaming at you to stop.

Not answering meant that Shinichiro could stay both simultaneously alive and dead, his fate linked to whether you picked up the call. If you didn’t, maybe he wouldn’t die after all, he’d stay stuck in the unknown limbo of immortality until you made a call.

But then again, this was your only chance to get an update on his status. And it wasn’t only you anxiously waiting on any sort of news. Wakasa was waiting; Keisuke and Kazutora, although asleep, were as well, and you could only fathom Benkei and Takeomi’s reaction. Mikey and Emma were probably up to date, the hospital must’ve called their grandfather before they reached out to you. And looking back at the people that depended on you, it really wasn't fair to put your own self-indulgent selfishness over the needs of others, was it?

It wasn't. Of course it wasn’t, but after putting everyone before you for as long as you’ve lived, didn’t you deserve to be selfish? At least once, when it pertainted the condition of the unrequited love of your life, didn’t you deserve at least that much?

“Hello?” Wakasa answered through furrowed brows and twitching lips. From the way he spoke, you could tell he was biting on the inside of his cheek to release some tension, putting enough pressure to draw blood. “This is Wakasa Imaushi speaking,

“–can’t get to the phone right now, can’t you just talk to me?” Voice getting progressively louder, he challenged the person on the other side of the call. “He’s my best friend, don’t I deserve to know whether he’s alive or not?!”

Only when his voice broke at the weight of his own desperation did you manage to snap out of your trance, snatching the phone out of his grip, ignoring his glassy eyes as you spoke into the receiver, mumbling your name through a shakily put together voice.

You’re not sure whether you imagined it or not, almost choking on a withered sob, but you could feel the moment your teeth sunk into the skin of your hand, digging hard enough for blood to prickle to the surface, preventing any other noise from coming out.

With your vision blurry and a tightness in your chest you could not describe, your body had gone completely numb, and yet your nerve endings were scorching under any semblance of atmospheric pressure, forcing you to feel everything, everywhere, all at once.

Had Wakasa not been there to catch you, you’d have collapsed on the ground, a pitiful wailing mess. Tears soaked through the fabric of both your clothes as you held each other close. For what felt like hours, the two of you stayed like that. Face buried against his neck and his against the top of your head, he rocked you back and forth in his arms until your tears stopped mixing themselves with your spit, sharp inhales tuning down into soft sniffles. And though his eyes burned with unshed sorrow, he kept on humming at your unintelligible mumbling.

“See? I told you he was stronger than we thought.” He whispered, though it sounded closer to a whimper, and nuzzled his cheek further against your hair. As if trying to ground himself, he gave you a tight squeeze, still in doubt whether he was trying to convince you or himself.

Only after a while, once both of your breathing had evened out, did you raise your head up from its hideout, hesitant footsteps catching your attention.

“Nee-chan?” You heard a tiny voice coming from the hallway, a little insecure, as if he didn’t think he deserved a proper response.

“I’m sorry ‘Tora, did we wake you?” You peeled Wakasa’s arms from your body, rubbing the haziness of your eyes away. He shook his head in response, carefully moving away from the shadows after acknowledging your lack of anger.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

His puffy eyes shimmered red under the soft moonlight coming through the living room window. He took meticulous steps in your direction, side-eyeing Wakasa and still wary of you, not knowing how you would react after his intrusion. Each one was lighter than the other, the wooden floors refused to creek underneath his weight, almost as if he had trained himself to become weightlessly invisible.

Slowly as to not startle him, you stretched your arms in his direction, beckoning him towards you and silently encouraging him to trust you. Even after drying out his tears once you tucked him in bed, holding his hand a little longer while Keisuke slept next to him, you’re sure that wasn’t enough to reassure him you wouldn’t blow up on him. For Kazutora, interacting with most people felt like trying to navigate an active minefield.

Hugging him close to your body, you pulled him on your lap and softly rocked him back and forth; the same way Wakasa had done with you. He nuzzled closer to you, letting himself relax against your touch once he registered you weren't a threat, basking in your warmth.

The silence the three of you fell under was deafening, uncomfortable even, though you didn't intend for it to be. Kazutora had this question stuck in his throat, sitting heavy against his vocal cords while the bitter taste of bile stained his tongue.

“Is…” he trailed off, still doubting whether he deserved to be asking such a question. “Is Mikey’s brother going to be okay?”

He tensed up at the lack of immediate response. The lack of positive reassurance that he hadn’t completely messed up everyone's lives made the grip he had on your arm grow tighter in fear of you letting go.

You didn’t. You weren’t planning to do so. Even if nausea piled up at the end of your oesophagus as the conflicting set of emotions brewing at the pit of your stomach, you were sure he needed you as much as you needed him to keep yourself grounded

“He will.” You brushed your fingers through his hair, lips curled up into a smile once you felt him relax against you once again. “Right now he’s resting, we can visit him in a couple of days, if you’d like.”

The silence amongst you became heavy once again, but inside Kazutora’s head the cacophony of your words bounced against the thick layers of bone and skin like worthless cries of distress. What he did was inconceivable, and in spite of that you still cared.

“I didn’t mean to,” barely a whisper, the words died out before they could be properly enunciated. They prickled and ached and stung at the walls of his throat. Something he couldn’t name but feel deeply inside his bones stopped himself from vomiting it all out. But mess after mess, like building blocks stacking one on top of the other, they piled up and pulled him down like a ball and chain made out of his own flesh and when he tried to pull at it to set himself free he could feel everything spilling out in a tangled cry. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I’m sorry!” he cried, clutching onto your shirt and arms, anything he could get a hold of to ensure you wouldn’t leave him alone. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Holding him tightly and shushing his cries, you could do nothing more than let his tears wet at your shirt, mumble that it was okay even if it truly wasn’t; even if the two of you knew it was a lie. The weeping child in your arms did nothing but pull at your heartstring, conflicting feelings arising in your chest. In spite of the fondness you felt for the kid, the same fondness you felt for all of your little brother’s friends, you had unconsciously developed a grudge towards him, bitterness and resentment for hurting Shinichiro.

His lashes rested against his skin, casting thin shadows under the sunlight streaming through the window. He had always looked peaceful when he was sleeping, chest rising and falling as if following a metronome’s tempo. You can remember taking long summer naps next to him and the rest of your friends, you always being the first one to wake up. Every summer the three of them arrived late to at least five Black Dragon’s meetings because they had slept in. Shinichiro had developed this antsy habit of arriving weirdly on time yet slightly late ever since then, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of letting down whoever was waiting for him; you wonder how he’d react if he knew the shop wouldn’t open today.

So peaceful yet fragile., never in your life would’ve you remotely imagined you’d be sitting next to your best friend’s hospital bed, eyes puffy and droopy while his head laid covered in bandages. The beeping of the monitor filling up the unnecessary silence that wouldn’t have otherwise been there had he been awake.

Had he been awake, he would’ve talked to you non-stop, retelling everything that went down to the most insignificant detail, sprinkling hyperboles as much as he could just to appear a little cooler in front of you. But it's not like he had to try anyway, to appear cooler, that is, you already thought he was the coolest person in the whole wide world; though you’d go as far as saying he was the coolest person to ever exist. The sole idea made you smile, tears welling up in your eyes as you wondered if he’d blush once he found out how highly you thought of him.

And of course, had he been awake, he would’ve been worried about everyone but him. He would’ve asked about Mikey and Emma, if they had slept over at the hospital or at home with his grandfather, who he would’ve proceeded to ask about. He would’ve bitten his tongue to prevent himself from even mentioning the economic implications of his stay, but you would’ve been able to read right through him.

Then, had he been awake, he would’ve asked about Keisuke and Kazutora. He would’ve be worried about them, berated you with a flurry of questions, emotions switching from anger to guilt in less than a millisecond; angry at your deplorable encounter with the police, guilty because he was the one that called, and maybe if he hadn’t, then Mikey’s friends wouldn't have gotten in trouble.

He would’ve asked about the shop, if anyone was there watching over it while he was resting in the hospital, deflating a little after finding out it wouldn’t open for the day. He would’ve asked about Wakasa and Benkei and Takeomi, ask if they were aware of what happened, if they had already started making fun of him after finding out a twelve year-old sent him straight to the ER; he would’ve sighed at your response, shaking his head because instead of making fun of him his friends were worried.

Finally, he’d ask about you. And maybe you would’ve cried or laughed or screamed. Maybe tears would’ve pooled in your eyes, the fact your friend was breathing finally sinking in. Maybe you would’ve giggled at your past unjustified worries because he was here now and you never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second. Maybe you would’ve broken down, fatigue deep in your bones pulling you to the ground until you could do nothing but lay cold and empty and happy on the floor because you had not dared sleep but at least the existence of his consciousness remained.

But the only one speaking was the wind blowing through the curtains, kissing his forehead and messing up his hair just to give you the opportunity to put it back in place through the insecure brush of your fingers

Resting your forehead next to the palm of his hand, you sighed in defeat; maybe you should’ve let him rest alone. You had spent the whole morning next to him, ignoring any hunger cues alerting you it was time for breakfast or lunch or any sort of meal time that could fuel your body from complete exhaustion. Still, even if you wanted to fall asleep, it was like your subconscious wouldn’t let you. Every time you closed your eyes and felt yourself slip into a deep slumber, you were jolted awake to your own dismay.

Not being able to rest had started to eat away at your own sanity. Only eight hours had passed, but every second felt like a thousand and at this point, you had become a walking contradiction; hungry but unable to eat, tired yet unable to fall asleep. Your body was failing you, unable to react to any sort of external or internal stimuli, and you’re sure wouldn't be able to cry no matter how much you wanted to do so.

But even then, apparently you could still scream.

The weight of his hand on top of your head caught you off guard. It almost made you fall from the chair and smack your head against the bed’s metal skeleton. Maybe if you got a concussion and slipped into a weird pseudo-coma after a harrowing God-knows-how-many-hours-long surgery he’d feel guilty enough to make up for the tachycardia that had your heart beating where your brain should be.

“Hi.” He smiled, words a little slurred as the remaining anaesthesia wore off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh, I see ‘you missed me alright.”

And you did. Even though less than a day had passed since the accident, picturing a whole lifetime without him was enough to permanently alter your brain chemistry. But he was here now, he was back and he was safe and the toothy grin he sported reminded you of home.

“Don’t ‘cha know it’s rude to eat in front of someone who can only chew on ice chips?” He joked, flinching as the nurse adjusted his IV drip.

You were forced to leave the room after a flurry of hospital staff came running at your volatile reaction; Of course, you were quick to reassure that your friend had only woken up and that everything was fine, before leaving for the cafeteria; giving them some space to work on Shinichiro would be good. Plus, not that he was ‘okay’ and you weren’t worrying about his health every second of every minute of every hour, you could address the sudden pangs of hunger poking at your stomach.

“I’ll buy you dinner once you get out.” You smiled, scooping some of the jell-o into your mouth through your innocent smile. But, again to your dismay, the mischievous glint in your eyes ratted you out. Shinichiro knew that ‘dinner’ meant the cheapest ramen you could find, maybe add an egg to spice it up, and ice cream you’d eat directly from the tub; a long lived tradition between the two of you. “I’ll even add chives this time.”

“Gee thanks,” he mocked, as if he’d rather do anything else than eat stale ramen with you. As long as he got the chance, he’d do anything. He’d probably lick the floor for you—not that he’d ever let you know, but if you asked he would, no questions asked. That’s what happens when you love someone. You’d be willing to do anything and everything for them even if it's irrational. “Can I choose the ice cream flavour at least?”

You hummed, focusing on scraping the plastic spoon against the plastic container in your hands to avoid his gaze. “Only this time though, so don’t get used to it.”

“Everything’s looking good so far, we’ll do another check up in a couple of hours.”

Right, you were still in here. Talking like everything was seemingly normal made you forget that you were still in the hospital, watching over your post-op, bedridden friend.

“Lay with me?” he asked, not before the both of you thanked the nurse who excused himself after gathering the remaining equipment. “Please?”

You shouldn’t, something inside your head made sure to let you know even if the urge to hold him close was overpowering. He had just barely woken up after a long emergency surgery, and you taking up space would be of no help for him to get the rest he needed. But the silent plea in the puppy dog eyes you had trained yourself so hard to resist, the subtle pout and the cute dopey-ness that had yet to wear off were far too tempting to resist.

His little celebratory cheer made you inwardly squeal as you slowly moved to his side, watching him wince in pain while he slowly shuffled himself closer to the edge in a clumsy attempt to make some space for you.

The thumping of his heartbeat reverberated in his chest, the stress melting from out your bones. You couldn’t help but sigh in content once you laid your head on his chest. Now that you were wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt like you could finally rest.

“Tired?” He mumbled against your hair, breaking the silence that had settled in the room as you basked in each other’s presence. You hummed in response, nuzzling your cheek against his body and almost purring like a cat at his warmth. Letting your eyes close involuntarily, you couldn’t help but be lulled to a premature slumber. With how comfortable you looked, and because your obnoxious yawning was too contagious, he wanted to do nothing but follow in your footsteps.

Instead, his eyes stayed wide open and stuck to the ceiling as if the off off-white paint that covered the concrete was the key to shutting down his brain long enough for sleep to take over. It didn’t matter that his blood had been infused with what felt like at least twenty hundred thousand milligrams of various pain-deafening substances that were sure to knock him out in a matter of seconds, falling asleep seemed to be an unattainable goal.

Whatever they had injected into his body increased his senses’ sensitivity, multiplying it times a hundred instead of dulling them down to nothing. And it didn’t stop at the uncomfortable overtly bright fluorescent lights or the suddenly deafening sound of unoiled wheels from hospital carts being rolled around. It was the way he could feel you barely resting your weight against his body, as if scared the least amount of pressure would make his heart stop. The way he was met with your now dull eyes, almost bloodshot but not quite, sunken with a thick coat of desperation, or fear, or some sort of premature grief, as soon as he woke up. Or how, in spite of only being gone for less than a day, it seemed like you had spent a lifetime unable to exist alongside everything you held dear.

Hyper aware of all those little details and more, it hit him without warning, and suddenly, he could feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

It prickled uncomfortably at his eyes, the skin around his charcoal orbs itching like it was on fire. His mouth felt cottony, smothering his airways and cutting his airflow while his tongue rested uncharacteristically heavy in his mouth with the weight of unsaid words. It broke all his bones at once, leaving him numb on the ground, still like a corpse, and unable to suppress the dooming feeling of his own life spilling from his pores, mixing with his blood until the air around him turned thick and metallic.

In the blink of an eye he had been one step closer to the grave, barely hanging onto a thread of consciousness as the view of his shop turned blurrier and blurrier, and now he was breathing. His lungs had finally regained consciousness and he could feel everything around him overwhelmingly loud and clear and close and real.

Now awake, he could feel you laying on top of him, almost passed out due to the immeasurable amount of stress he had put you under. And maybe if it wasn’t for his reckless habit of parading around life with his guard lowered or for the lack of proper security measures at the shop—because who on earth would rob him? There’s no way he could be that unlucky. Impossible. Or maybe it was his inability to dodge, to hold his stance in a fight because even if he was strong, without proper technique he was rendered useless and, holy shit– he could’ve died.

He could’ve died and then Manjiro would’ve been forced to grow up way too soon because he would have to take care of Emma and grandpa—although knowing both his siblings, Emma was more likely to turn into the head of the house. And then his friends would’ve been left to grieve his death, make sad speeches about the best moments they had together and, fuck was Takeomi terrible at writing; his speech would just be a big mess of incoherent words stuck together. And what about the shop? Who was he leaving the shop to? And what about Inupi? Inupi was just a kid and he can’t just leave him all alone; he had promised to himself to take care of him the same way he took care of his siblings— fuck, Izana as well. Who was going to look after his brother? He was planning to introduce him to all of you guys soon. The two of you would’ve gotten along so well and,

And you.

What about you?

You looked beyond heartbroken. Words couldn't begin to describe exactly what somberness mulled deep within that brain of yours. If this is how you reacted to the possibility of him dying, then how would’ve you reacted to him actually doing so?

A choked sob rips through his lips, the sound painful as it breaches its forceful containment.

“Shin–”

“I’m sorry.”

“What…” you trailed off. The strained cry had erased any speck of slumber. For a second you thought you had dreamt it, that your brain had finally gone off the rails and you were hearing imaginary voices. That was until you looked up at him, eyes welling up with unshed tears, body stiff as if to prevent them from falling. “What’re you sorry for?”

“I just remembered the beach trip we were planning for Manjiro’s birthday,” he sniffled, “and I think we’re gonna have to cancel.”

“That’s okay, we can reschedule—”

“Yeah but I– I know he was really excited for it, all his friends were.”

“We’ll talk to them, make sure they understand—”

“And you were excited about it too,” avoiding your eyes even after you had tried to coax him into meeting yours. He felt so far away, almost unreachable despite laying right next to you. “And I know how much you love the beach and I really wanted to go with you even if we were gonna have to chaperone six hyperactive children,

“And, and I know the guys were gonna come with and we had it all perfectly planned out with this huge dorayaki cake thing and now we’re gonna have to cancel because of me—”

“Wait,” you shush him as gently as possible, sitting up and holding his hand tightly between yours. “What do you mean ‘because of me’?”

Almost as if he had never started, your question managed to shut down his rambling like forcefully closing a water faucet. He had this estranged, far-off look darkening his face, eyes glassy, almost as if he were dissociating. It made your stomach churn with anxiety. Never in your many, many, years of friendship had you seen him lose himself like this.

“Because,” he paused, trying to swallow down the knot grappling at his throat, fighting off the urge to tear it off with his bare hands. “Because it's my fault we’re cancelling.”

“I– What’re you talking about?”

He groaned in desperation. Why was this so hard to explain?

“I’m the one who’s bedridden.” Still dizzy after waking up and to the best of his ability, he tried sitting up, wincing in pain to then give up and lean into his forearms. “I’m the one with random needles poking through my skin, fresh off the ER because my skull was bashed into with one of my own tools and maybe, just maybe, if I had been more aware at the time, I could've avoided the hit.”

“Shin, this wasn’t your fault—”

“But it is! Can't you see?”

“Shin–”

“D’you know what I did when I heard someone break the glass?” He looked at you expectantly, voice raised in frustration. “After I called the cops; do you?” You shook your head in response, knowing that any attempt to help him calm down would be futile. “I grabbed a wrench.

“After the operator told me to hide and wait for help because I told them it sounded like more than one person was inside, I grabbed a stupid wrench and decided to face them,

“I decided to face them even if I'm well aware I wouldn’t be able to take two people at once.”

And though he seemed to be dead set on believing that somehow he managed to land himself in the hospital, you wouldn’t allow him to give himself up to the restless thoughts, no matter how badly he wanted to indulge the bitter part of his brain that had gotten used to putting himself down.

“Someone hit you from behind,” you tried, “you were ambushed, of course you wouldn't be able to take them on.”

His defeated sigh gave you some sort of uncomfortable comfort. Knowing it made you glad that he had finally given up was a conflicting feeling you wish to never re-examine or experience again.

You sat up, swallowing the foreign relief down, and scooted further up the bed’s backrest. Your elbow rested well above the pillow where he laid, and you couldn't help but use your leverage to gently brush your fingers through his hair, only relaxing once he visibly melted against your touch.

“You didn’t do this to yourself, this wasn’t your fault.” You whispered, fingertips soothing his worries as they ghosted the skin of his forehead. “You’re not responsible for every single thing that goes wrong, no matter how much you try to convince yourself you are.”

He can’t recall a single moment in his life in which he felt like he was relieved from his self-imposed duty—the duty of an older brother, primary caretaker, and practically a parent. Someone who must put everyone’s needs above his own well-being. He’s responsible for everything going on around him, the good, the bad, the neutral, the everything. It only made sense that the break in and the subsequent series of events were, in part, his responsibility.

And he knew it was irrational thinking because how on earth would he have known what was going to happen? But he couldn’t help it, not when all the consequences of his actions reflected on the bigger picture; everyone relies on Shinichiro Sano, and it was his duty to fulfil.

“And I promise you no one is disappointed in you. Not a single one of us.” You press your lips against the top of his head, smiling through your own teary eyes at the little hum he involuntarily let out. “We’re all so, so happy that you're awake and talking and I bet Manjiro would rather move his beach birthday party a hundred years from now than lose his brother six days before his birthday,

“The beach is not going anywhere, and neither are we, okay? We are not going anywhere.”

And you knew it wasn’t not enough. Your words weren’t enough to shut up the swirling negativity spiral in his brain. But at least it was enough to calm him down, enough for him to fall asleep in spite of the dampness kissing his skin; he might have successfully managed to suppress the heart wrenching sobs, but he was not strong enough to hold back the tears that cascaded down his cheeks.

You follow through not long after, head lolling to the side in an uncomfortable position that would for sure leave your neck aching for days. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no dreaming this time. No nightmares or worst case scenarios crafted deep within your subconscious. In spite of the gloomy circumstances, the two of you had fallen asleep. Finally, being in your arms was beyond comforting. Plus, indulging in the rest your body had craved for hours made it easier to regain consciousness once Manjiro decided to jump on the two of you in surprise, never minding the possibility of further injuring his brother by mistake.

Being on the receiving end of his lovable violence hurt more than you thought it would, one of his hands landing straight on your stomach and the other on Shinichiro’s chest, but you couldn’t blame the kid. Based on what Keisuke had confided in you last night, Manjiro had witnessed both his best friends’ arrest as well as his brother being pulled out unconscious on a stretcher out of the shop.

Beyond a muffled apology, he didn’t utter anything else, like his voice had given in. He clung onto Shinichiro’s body like his life depended on it.

A swift knock on the door caught your attention, though Manjiro didn't even bother looking up, face tucked against his brother’s body, letting himself relax as his brother’s fingers threaded through his blond locks.

Emma poked her head from behind the wall, hands holding onto the door frame for balance. From where you laid you could see how her eyes were almost as puffy as yours. They were rimmed with a bright red, the same shade that was splotched all over her cheeks and nose. Mansaku stood beside her, holding onto his hat.

You could physically feel the relief washing over Shinichiro the moment he saw his whole family entering the room. He laid lighter next to you, with a brighter smile decorating his lips. It was like his body had melted from hard concrete right into a puddle, your previous conversation seemingly forgotten as a twinkle of warmth returned to his pretty eyes.

Careful not to let Manjiro fall in the dent you were leaving as you stood up, you beckoned Emma over. She cuddled up to Shinichiro, clinging onto him while her soft sniffles filled the silent room, and you swore you had almost started tearing up again at the sight.

Mansaku placed a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise as he acknowledged your presence. Like a wordless thank you, he nodded at you before stepping closer towards the bed, letting his hand rest on Shinichiro’s, and gently squeezed as if making sure his grandson was truly there.

In no way shape or form was it the perfect family meetup—a perfect one wouldn’t entail the eldest-grandson-slash-parental-figure stuck in a hospital bed. But by the way they huddled together, Shinichiro pinching Manjiro’s cheeks, the latter not even fighting him off like he usually would, and patting Emma’s head in reassurance, with Mansaku displaying the ghost of a smile as he stood next to his grandchildren, the four of them gave off the feeling of everything being okay.

The familiar warmth between them left you to watch the scene like an outsider in a third-person point of view. It made you feel like you were intruding, messily glued to one of those fancy family portraits.

In spite of both your families spending the majority of their lives around one another, you weren’t a Sano. No matter how close Keisuke and Manjiro were, no matter how much Shinichiro and you acted like a married couple with at least five children, you were never going to be one. You knew this from the start, but even so, the knowledge didn’t stop the churning of a deeply seeded loneliness inside your stomach.

You didn’t bother with your goodbyes. Even if you had promised Shinichiro you’d spend the rest of the day together—pretending to be bothered and reluctant when you sealed it with a ‘pinky promise’ to hide the fact you’d willingly play nurse whenever he needed it—something from within told you it was your time to leave, you weren’t that important after all.

The question swirled inside your skull, bitter as it scratched your bones, as you leaned against the walls outside the hospital. At first, you intended to camp out in a waiting room, maybe join them after you had finally calmed down, but instead your legs had taken you right outside, landing you in a secluded area between the building and the many trees surrounding it so you could confidently retrieve the crushed package from your back pocket without disturbing anyone

Your thumb burned as you attempted to roll the sparkwheel of your zippo lighter, the metal forming uncomfortable crevices against your skin. You had to hold back the urge to bite down on the cigarette you had clumsily stuck between your teeth instead of your lips, frustration welling up and threatening to burst from the seams that clumsily held you together.

Waiting for the uncomfortable itch to burn at your throat, you traced the outline of the red koi fish at the corner of the lighter, eroded after thumbing at it like a nervous tick over the years. Every time you felt your eyes water you made sure to compulsively take another drag, as if the smoke could cloud your thoughts, mixing them up with the familiar nostalgia.

Anyone would think that after incinerating your taste buds with each stick you burn, you’d get used to the taste. Whoever said it gets easier the more you do it was a liar. They were as disgusting as ever, flavour the exact same as those you had tried when you were younger, fooling around with your friends. It first started when Shinichiro and Takeomi brought a couple of cigarettes they had stolen from his grandfather to one of your hang outs. It prompted the three of you to continuously choke and make fun of each other for doing so until there were only mustard coloured butts squished on the floor.

Neither Takeomi nor you had really enjoyed the experience, but for some reason, Shinichiro was quick to grow fond of the taste. He made sure to carry around a twelve-pack wherever he went, lighting up cigarette after cigarette in strategic places so the smell wouldn’t stick to his hair or clothes. Not soon after, the rather unhealthy habit had extended to the remaining two of you, who couldn’t help but carry your own packs to satisfy your newly birthed cravings.

Looking back, you’re sure younger-you did that to be a little more like Shinichiro, just like Takeomi, and for other even more childish reasons like appearing more mature and attractive in his eyes; you clearly remember him having a thing for older women for a while. Sure, the two of you were the same age but still, you felt like he didn’t see you like you wanted him to, and the only way for you to change that would be to gain some more common ground with him right?

So yeah, just like Takeomi, you wanted to be more like Shinchiro, but unlike Takeomi—as far as you know—you had started buying cigarette packets mainly to share back and forth with your best friend in, what you would call, a weak attempt at flirting.

At least the cringe memory managed to rip you out from the insecurity whirlpool you were being sucked into, making you groan while softly hitting your head against the concrete wall. Thank god Wakasa existed to berate you into stopping the unhealthily embarrassing habit. Back then you were just a kid, but were you being for real? Were you seriously intending to build your whole life around a man to the point you’d indulge in one of the most common and deadliest habits in the world for a slim chance at a high-school romance? Fuck, was younger-you so painfully stupid to even think–

“One of you is already in the hospital, we don't need you to auto-hospitalise.”

The old man’s voice made you jump, fumbling with the cigarette until it fell to the floor. You tried to hide the coughing fit to the best of your ability while frantically stomping on the lit stick laying on the ground. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were still terrified of getting caught smoking by the man.

“Would you mind sharing one with me?” He asked, ignoring the way your face morphed into a confused frown. With nimble fingers, you opened your cigarette pack once again, handing him your lighter when he was unable to fetch his from his pockets.

“You still smoke?” You questioned, adding a hasty ‘sir’ once you noticed how informal you had sounded.

He chuckled in response, taking another puff. “I only stopped doing it in front of the children.”

This time it was your turn to chuckle, playing with the gravel underneath your feet to avoid looking at the man at your slip-up. Still, even with your gaze fixated on the ground you could tell he was looking at you in curiosity.

“I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just,” clearing your throat, you stumbled with your words, debating in your head whether you should come up with one of your horrid cover ups or tell the truth. “You always smoked around us when we were little, like you didn’t care.”

You thought he would’ve left you alone after that, knowing you were purposely disrespectful towards him. It would’ve been better that way. Then you would’ve been left to wallow in your own self-pity in peace, with no one to stop you from finishing the seven remaining cigarettes. But he didn’t, taking you aback as he stayed rooted right by your side.

Had you been anyone else, he would’ve called them out. To cover up his own embarrassment or to make up for the disrespect? Not even he could be sure. But he had seen you grow up next to his own grandchildren, sharing your love and caring nature with them along with your mild irascibility and your talent for keeping Shinichiro on a tight leash. He couldn’t help but grow fond of you, even if most of your one-on-one interactions had consisted of you running away from him before he managed to scold you.

He had only stopped smoking once Manjiro was born, self-awareness finally sinking into his thick skull as he watched his two grandsons play together. No one had questioned him back then, letting him sit on the couch undisturbed while he read the morning paper. It was only after Sakurako had passed away, that he had started to notice the many areas he was lacking, watching both Shinichiro and you fill the gaps in each other’s broken homes while he alienated himself from the responsibility of taking care of his family. The two of you worked so in sync, he would be of no help—or at least that was what he had told himself.

“I wasn’t the best grandfather.”

“You think?”

“I know.” He smiled at your attitude; snappy as always, the only difference was the way you now recoiled in embarrassment at your slip ups. Using his fingers to get rid of the ash, he tapped on the back of the cigarette before taking another drag. “Thank you for taking care of them when I couldn’t.”

Not even a noise of acknowledgement, your vocal chords had closed themselves shut at the man’s sudden mild vulnerability. Out of all the things you expected him to ever say to you, a ‘thank you’ was never on the list. He was always sporting his characteristic cartoonish frown, speaking to everyone in a clipped tone with pointed words.

“You’re more important to us than you think.” He stepped on the cigarette butt. “That is one of the reasons why I can’t let you believe what happened to my grandson was in any way your fault.”

“‘Sorry?” You mumbled in confusion, his words pulling yet another frown onto your face; did you miss any pivotal points in the conversation? How had the conversation switched from his apparent familial issues to you?

“I know you feel guilty for what happened, even if you weren’t involved.” He sighed, not bothering to look you in the eye before continuing his speech. “You’re not responsible for your brother’s doing.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed in mild amusement, as if that wasn’t something you’ve been trying to tell yourself; all Bajis share their fuckups. But then again, of course he wouldn’t understand. “Easier said than done.”

This time you didn’t try to make up for the way had snapped at him. And bless the man for being able to read the room, because he didn’t push the conversation further. Deep down he knew you needed the outlet; you may have already cried, but all your anger was still pent up inside of you. And after everything you had done for him and his family, it was the least he could do for you.

“It doesn’t matter what we believe, we’re always responsible for everyone’s mess.” You scoff in dismay. “It’s like we were born for our families to have a provisional caretaker.

“So thank you for trying to tell me I didn’t break into Shinchiro’s shop, I know I didn’t, but it's still my mess to fix.” The aftertaste of the words laid heavy in your mouth, trickling down your throat like bitter bile tearing through the tissue. You didn’t like how they sounded; they were too impersonal, too selfish. You took a deep breath, holding yourself upright in spite of the pang in your chest. “Not that i wouldn’t have taken care of Shin if someone else had been responsible for what happened, I lo– I– I care too much about him to just leave him be but its just—”

You cleared your throat, “If I had made sure I knew where Keisuke was going or, or if I had actually tried to listen to him when he told me he didn’t know what to give Manjiro for his birthday then maybe– just…”

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence without breaking down the walls of the dam you thought you had finally managed to piece back together. You didn’t want the responsibility of rebuilding them back up, you don’t think you’d be able to do it as quickly as you’d want to. But you weren’t venting your sorrows to the wind. Mansaku Sano was still standing next to you, hands locked behind his back as he waited for you to continue, and though he was well aware of the times in which he had to remain quiet, he also knew when it was time to speak up.

“Then what?”

“Then,” you swallow, “then none of this would’ve happened, and he would’ve been okay.”

Your body itched for another cigarette, pawing at your skull for you to smother down the tears spouting from your eyes, even if the smoke would make your eyes teary once again. But with Mansaku Sano standing next to you, you didn’t dare touch a single one; it didn’t matter that you had just finished spilling your pent up emotions, you drew the line at smoking with Shinichiro’s grandfather. The thought sprouted a melancholic smile on your lips; Shinichiro would have a field day when he finds out what just went down.

The only thing left you had to ground yourself was the cold metal of your lighter, already starting to heat up at the warmth of your skin. You ran your thumb over it once again, the pattern already engraved in your mind. The habit had probably developed out of your need to be comforted by familiarity—of course the lighter was the right candidate, from its colour and texture, size and temperature, you had everything about it memorised like the back of your hand.

“It’s a really nice lighter.” You hadn't realised you were playing with it until he spoke up; twirling it between your fingers over and over again, flipping it open and close, lighting it up before shutting the lid and extinguishing the flame.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, and right after you finished speaking, your voice hoarse and tired, you regretted ever doing so. You felt like a child once again; like when your mom tried to comfort you after you had scraped your knee, or when a couple of older middle-schoolers had beaten your friends up. A child like when the day was finally over and you had to go back home from a play-date, or when your favourite toy had fallen inside the river while walking over a bridge. You regretted speaking the minute you had discovered your voice sounded as weak as you felt, and yet, at the mention of your beloved trinket, you felt the warm giddiness wash over your body forcing you to speak. And so, once again like a child, you did. “I got it at a summer festival, Shin got it for me.”

“I thought you said you wanted to come visit him.”

For a minute Keisuke didn’t speak. He looked straight at the ground, feet planted on the floors like roots had grown out of him as he held your hand.

Earlier this morning he had clung onto your waist while angry tears rolled down his cheeks. The moment he caught sight of you putting your shoes on the genkan he had broken into a run, letting his body smash against yours, and almost making you lose your balance. Both you and your mom had tried your hardest to calm him down for what felt like hours but to no avail. He persisted, begging for you to let him accompany you to the hospital.

Outside of Shinichiro’s room, it was a whole other story. All of a sudden he had decided he didn’t want to see him eye to eye. His reaction made you internally groan in frustration. Had you listened to your own gut feeling telling you Keisuke wasn’t ready to come with you, it would’ve saved him the stress of making a choice for himself. Instead, you were too weak to his puppy dog eyes and wobbly pleas, and now his eyes had started to water as he tried to hold back his own hiccups.

“I promise Shin-nii isn’t angry at you,” you cooed, kneeling down to the floor and looking up at him. When had he gotten this tall? When had he grown this much? Were your efforts enough to shape him into a decent person? “and if you truly don't feel comfortable we can go home, I promise I won’t get angry.”

He rubbed at his teary eyes with his free hand before nodding at you, trailing behind you as you stood up and knocked on the door.

“Hey!” you poked your head into the room with a smile, one that faltered as you tried to keep your mouth from falling open in awe once you noticed how the sunlight streaming from the window kissed every inch of Shinichiro’s skin as he quietly read the book you had given him as a joke. He looked up at you, pearly whites all up for display, and mumbled a soft mumbled a soft ‘hey’ right back at you; he looked so pretty he could be mistaken for an angel. “I brought Keisuke with me, ‘that okay?”

He hummed in response, marking the page he was reading before setting it aside. Even after the events that took place at the shop, you knew he wouldn’t mind your brother visiting—he had a soft spot for him after all. The verbal confirmation was more for Keisuke’s sake, who prompted by it, let go of your hand and walked into the room, a tinge of fear staining each step he took.

Shinichiro grinned, gently waving his way. And though the both of you had always found some sense of comfort in the warmth of his smile, it took less than a second for Keisuke to burst into tears. Sobs wracked his body as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, frantically drying out his cheeks with his forearms in vain. Tears kept pouring from his caramel eyes down to his cheeks until they stained his striped shirt.

At the sight of his distress, Shinichiro tried standing up as quickly as possible, almost ripping off his tangled IV. Thankfully, you managed to stop him before he could; the moment your brother had started crying you were already by his side wrapping your arms around his fragile figure.

Much like you had done the past few days, you combed his hair with your fingers while shushing his cries. It had become almost like a habit, Keisuke running to you in the middle of the day, hugging you close while you dried his tears for him. You’d think he’d ran out of tears by now, but something you didn’t take into account was how similar the two of you were, always feeling everything too much, all at once.

“You’re okay,” you whispered into his hair, “you’re okay, and Shin-nii’s okay, see?” you asked him, holding his tear streaked cheeks and motioning his face to meet your gaze, waiting for his breathing to even out before you coaxed him into looking at Shinichiro. “We’ve got you, the two of us, we've got you.”

He smiled at him once again, though you could see a twinkle of sadness in his eyes, as extended one of his hands for him to take. Warily, he warmed up to the invitation, wiping the remaining tears from his face before dragging his feet to the edge of the bed, asking if he could sit with him in a very un-Keisuke nature; it was unusual for him to ask before acting on his impulses.

Shinichiro softened once he felt Keisuke nuzzling his cheek against his chest. He ran his fingers through his dark locks, and as he did so you couldn’t help but think how his hair kept getting longer and longer with each day; hopefully no one from the school office would call you letting you know it was time to chop it off once classes were back in session.

In between hushed whispers, they talked amongst each other for a while. At first, Baji kept giving one word responses, still insecure in spite of your reassurance, but it wasn’t long before he started to loosen up, giggling between sniffles at Shinichiro’s questions and mocking his ‘honorary-brother’ back with teary jabs.

It was a solid dynamic they had been able to build after years of trust and consistent interaction; your two favourite boys extending their love to each other like they were flesh and blood. In that way, the two of them were similar, fiercely loyal and willing to give themselves up for those they loved. You were grateful that Shinichiro was there for Keisuke as he grew up, unknowingly making up for everything you lacked.

The mumble of your name caught your attention, popping your nostalgia blown bubble. Keisuke and Shinichiro alike were beckoning you over, the latter extending his arm as the two of them scooted over and patted the free space next to him.

He held your hand like you were a princess stepping onto a carriage, gingerly helping you keep your balance as you toed-off your shoes. You let out a sigh once you plopped yourself on the bed, letting his arm curl around your shoulders while he kept your hands interlocked, rubbing the skin with his thumb. In spite of the giddiness warming your stomach, you forced yourself to roll your eyes in response when he teasingly asked if you were comfortable, pretending to be bothered by his apparent clinginess

“‘Your sister made you try the jell-o cups already?” he asked Keisuke, the younger boy looking up at him through puffy eyes and wet lashes, and once he shook his head in response he whistled, turning towards you as if disappointed. “You haven’t made him try ‘em yet?”

“‘Came straight to see you.” You brushed off, pretending you didn’t feel his body tense beside you and smiling to yourself in subtle victory when he gulped.

“You should’ve gone to the cafeteria first.” He scolded jokingly, clicking his tongue as if that would help him hide his blushing cheeks that hurt from his own shy affection. Soon after, he switched his attention to your brother, ruffling his hair before speaking, “Remember those jell-o cups you used to share with Manjiro and Haruchiyo? The ones they sold at the konbini?”

“Yeah, but they don't have ‘em anymore,” Keisuke pouted, brows furrowed in thought. His sharp canines poked at his bottom lip, tilting his head up at Shinichiro and grinning. “Mikey almost fought the cashier guy when we found out they stopped selling them!”

“Yeah, I remembered that.” He chuckled, recalling the time he had heard the employee complain about Manjiro’s sudden aggression on one of his morning milk runs. “But guess what?” he sat on his forearms, dragging out the silence to build anticipation. He waited for the two of you to raise your heads from his chest, sharing an evident impatience as you urged him to continue. He took a deep breath before grinning once again. “They still sell ‘em over here.”

“No way! Really?!” The boy stood up in less than a second, forcing you to grab onto the neck of his t-shirt to prevent him from falling flat on his ass while he cried in glee, tears seemingly forgotten. Those jell-o cups in particular had been a staple of everyone’s childhood; you had been eating those snacks for years and years. You can clearly remember the clear disappointment in his face when he told you they had been discontinued, his somberness rubbing off on you.

“Yeah!” Shinichiro exclaimed back, scooting closer to your brother and placing one of his hands on the bed railing behind your brother, aiding you in your task of preventing Keisuke from falling to the ground. The memory had suddenly made its wake into his consciousness after mulling over ways to comfort your brother and coming up empty handed, until he had suddenly turned to his bedside table where an empty plastic cup sat with a flimsy disposable spoon. “Manjiro and Emma got a bunch from the cafeteria to take home, you could do the same.”

You were almost taken aback by the speed he used to turn his face towards you, surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash before he asked you with as much excitement he could muster, “Can we?! Please, please!?”

His pleading words made his bronze eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lights and though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. You smiled and nodded without a shadow of a doubt that you’d do anything in your power to keep the toothy grin you missed on his lips.

“Does that mean I can go get one now?” He pleaded, tilting his head and yet again putting on display the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Please? I haven't had one in years, I wanna know if they’re the same as I remember.”

“Knock yourself out.” Shinichiro said before you could respond, ruffling Keisuke’s hair before the latter jumped down, ignoring the fact you didn’t give him a proper response before running off to the cafeteria.

You sighed unimpressed, turning towards the man beside you and letting yourself slump against his figure. His chuckle only made you roll your eyes.

“What? Were you planning to say no to him?”

He knew you too well for your own good.

“Shut up.” With a gentle push you force him back down on the bed, elbowing him lightly in the process and pressing your head back against his chest. You almost hum in satisfaction when he let himself fall back down without resistance, caving in under your touch. “I could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, right.” This time, he was the one rolling his eyes, mocking your mannerisms and chuckling when you smiled, hoping the apparent ‘nonchalance’ would mask his now increased heart rate, and the faster beating coming from the vital sign monitor.

“I could’ve!” You tried to sit up in retaliation, pretending to be annoyed, yet you didn’t resist when he pulled you back down. He held down his own giggling once he felt you cuddling up closer to his side, tracing random patterns on his dotted hospital gown and realising too late how close both your hands were. The proximity made you nervous; even if the two of you were practically laying one on top of the other, holding hands felt like a foreign act of intimacy.

Subtly enough, you tried reaching out for the tip of his fingers, moving what seemed like less than a millimetre per minute. Soon enough, he took notice of your plan; hesitantly, he moved his own towards you, letting your fingertips rest against each other for a couple of seconds, like he was asking for your permission, before interlocking his fingers with yours.

“You really can’t stay away from me, can you?” he teased, gaze focused on your entwined hands through his lashes as he felt too shy to look anywhere near your face. It seemed that hiding the pink-ish blush staining his cheek had become his number one priority; you were so close, so everywhere, he wouldn’t want it any other way, even if the closest he’d get to you would be through friendly teasing, bordering the line of ‘definitely, a 100% and unmistakably platonic’ flirting.

In your mind, you were desperately scavenging for any semblance of a comeback, preferably witty and with the same energy he was giving you.Instead, all you did was sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You blamed the gusty confession on a moment of weakness, likely born out of your depleting energy mixed with the way his hand fit against yours like two perfectly carved puzzle pieces. You weren’t sure why you had said what you did, the way you did; voice softening as the longing you had suppressed your whole life coated every syllable that rolled down your tongue.

He hummed in response, giddy and satisfied, before backtracking in confusion. The lack of sarcasm or annoyance lighthearted mockery caught the two of you off-guard, though it seemed to have a bigger impact on him as his body tensed up for a moment. If you were to look up at him, you’d probably see his head tilted to the side, with warm cheeks and the ghost of a frown clouding his features.

And that’s exactly why you don’t.

Not like this; you wouldn't allow yourself to do so, wouldn’t even dare. Not when the stakes were this high, multiple worst outcomes served on a silver platter for you to choose because once you look up at him he would notice the way you see him, like he hung up each individual constellation up in the sky on his own and then all of it would be over for you.

For the both of you.

“Do you, uh,” the slight shake in his voice made you gulp, like you had an inkling of a very possible question he could ask. Maybe this would finally be the end of your friendship which, to your own dismay, could be very easily broken by other things that weren’t death itself, “do you know if Keisuke has talked to Manjiro yet?”

You cleared your throat, holding back the sigh of relief, and shook your head. “I don’t think he knows how.”

“He’s scared?”

“I think so,” you pondered, “they’ve been friends since forever, I think he’s scared of losing…him.”

Knowing that both you and your brother’s situation overlapped in so many ways felt weird; both Baji siblings were scared to lose their respective Sano brothers. It sounded funny, almost cute, like both Bajis and Sanos were meant to stick together generation after generation. You would’ve giggled at the thought, explain the parallels between the two relationships to Shinichiro and laugh at the silliness of it, yet the fear that had taken possession of your body the last couple of days lingered at the thought.

Scared of losing him.

You almost choked on the words sitting heavy in your mouth, like you had confessed to a crime. Had you been alone, maybe they would’ve urged you to cry.

“Hey, ‘you okay?” You hadn’t realised that the worry had bled onto your face, dripping down your cheeks and coating your eyelashes with sorrow until he spoke up, tearing you away from your trance. But you couldn’t help it, the lingering torture you endured at the hands of your brain replaying past events, from the bailing your brother out of jail as he sobbed to having Wakasa answer the call for you, Kazutora crying in your arms and Shinichiro blaming himself for his own accident, the more you felt like losing yourself in his embrace, tightening your hold on his hand. “You left me there for a second I thought–”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m–” you stuttered, “I don’t think I’m okay, I–”

Rejection after rejection, you’ve seen what felt like an infinite amount of his confessions go sideways, and yet he handled each and every one of them with grace. You’d attribute his resilience to the amount of first hand experience he’s had with it, and though at first it had taken a big toll on him. By now, rejection was nothing to him. He could make a fool of himself in front of anyone and he really wouldn’t care; he has told you so himself.

But you were not Shinichiro, and you could never be him.

You were resentful and impulsive, oftentimes reacting way before you think. You were impatient and whiny, though you tried your best to suppress that particular trait to no avail. You were a selfish, self-destructive being that somehow managed to keep the insecure neediness brewing inside on the down low.

And you could go on. You could go on because you were stubborn, volatile, melodramatic and a part of your brain really does think you were just setting yourself up for failure listing every single negative character trait that comes to mind. But it didn’t matter because that just further proves you're not Shinichiro Sano, that you were never going to be Shinichiro Sano because you were weak.

Too weak to answer the call, too weak not to try and escape uncomfortable situations, too weak to hold back the urge for a smoke, too weak to forgive Kazutora, too weak to confess your feelings for your best friend even after bawling your eyes out at the thought of a life without him.

Too weak, too weak, too weak.

Being weak is all you’ve ever known.

The thoughts poured and they wouldn’t stop, crashing against each other like the same bumper carts you rode along with Shinichiro at the funfair with your siblings. Back then, you were all smiles and laughter, and right now you wondered if the two of you would’ve held hands if it wasn’t for Emma sitting in the middle of you both.

And he was so warm next to you, not pressuring you to clarify whatever word-vomit you just spewed instead of a proper comeback. So sweet as he squeezed your hand to let you know he was there to help in whichever way he could to lull your worries to sleep. So kind as he took care of you when you should be the one taking care of him. Always so him.

You had no right to be a coward, at least not in front of one of the strongest and bravest people you’ve ever met. It wasn’t fair. Listing your flaws from the top of your head would never justify your body preventing itself from spilling the truth just so you could try and grasp at the fragile strings of self-pity to sew yourself back together as unspoken words necrotize your tongue.

The same way you wouldn’t dare look at him, you wouldn’t dare stay away from him. It’d kill you just to try. So fuck every martyrish thought in your head, fuck the burned cigarette butts stained with indirect kisses, fuck the many nights the two of you spent stargazing in his garden, the infinite amount of chocolates you bought him for valentine’s day to make up for the emptiness of his locker; and the countless times he had dropped everything he was doing for the chance to spend just a couple of minutes with you. Fuck the worn out red koi fish engraved on your lighter and the possibility of breaking the promise you two made of never straying away from each other.

“I can’t stay away from you,” you took a deep breath, “I think I’d rather die than live a life without you,

“The sole idea of losing you almost sent me over the edge, and even after you were out of surgery I was a mess,” you stopped yourself again, giving yourself the chance to swallow down the knot in your throat; it didn’t work. “I was going insane without being able to talk your ear off because even when I talk about something you couldn’t give a shit about you still give a shit, you give so many shits when it comes to me, too many,

“You’re loyal and gentle and charming and you’re always smiling, and it's like, it's like you're absolutely everything good and even then you genuinely have no idea how wrapped around your finger I truly am,

“And I don't think I’ve ever properly thanked you for existing because I don't think I’d be the same person I am right now if it wasn't for you, and even if I'm not perfect, I- I wouldn't trade myself for a better version if that meant you wouldn’t be in my life.

“So, yeah, I guess you’re right, I don’t think I can,” you let your shoulders sag, like the confession finally burned years upon years of cover-ups and excuses and fake scenarios you had come up with before bed stored in the darkest depth of your brain. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stay away from you.”

Pensive, he melted further against the pillows, letting his muscles melt at the sound of his own sighing. Even if you weren’t directly looking at him, you hear his smile reverberating throughout his body, and the sole idea of him possibly reciprocating your feelings made you impossibly giddy; a little too giddy. It was easy, after all, to get your hopes up once you lose yourself in him, his warmth and comfort. And for less than a second, you can see your hypothetical future with him pass right in front of your eyes, forcing you to accept a premature victory. But as the silence between the two of you started to drag itself out, you couldn't help but reluctantly welcome the acrid heartbreak tearing through your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you tensed up, “I shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, it's–,” he blurted out tongue tied as if your words had snapped him out of a trance, mirroring the same giddiness you had displayed with the same hint of hesitancy, “no one has talked about me like that, I guess it just caught me off-guard.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I don’t– don’t think I'd be able to stay away from you either– not that I want to, of course it's just– sorry give me a minute.” Looking off to the side, he tried to collect himself, clearing his throat and pinching his cheeks, the skin already stained with all sorts of shades of pink. For him, it was inevitable not to become all shy and flustered, the least he could do was bite his tongue so as not to break into a fit of giggles, prevent himself from swinging his legs and twirling his short strands of hair like a lovesick middle schooler. All because of you. “Just, um, just to be clear before I look like an absolute fool, not that I don't look like an absolute fool on a daily basis, but this is a confession, right?”

You raised your head up in confusion, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. Had you not been so baffled by his self-explanatory question you would’ve fawned over this version of him, giddy and soft and in love with you because just by looking at his eyes you could tell he was looking at you like you hung the moon up in the sky—it was easy to decipher; after staring at him the exact same way countless times, you were bound to familiarise yourself with such display of devotion. And had he not looked this adorable, you would’ve teased him for being so painfully and hopelessly dense, but you didn’t have it in you to do so, only managing to nod in response.

“So you like like me?” He continued, waiting for your reassurance, either a nod or a smile, or any signal that he was right. “So you are in love with me?”

“I mean, I wouldn't say I'm in love but if that's what makes you sleep at night.” The more you stared at his face, the dimples on his cheeks, the creasing of his eyes at your words and the giggle he couldn’t help but contain, the wider the smile creeping at his lips became.

“Will you say it then?” He prodded, moving closer to you, now unable to hide the twinge of pink that grew what seemed like a thousand shades per second.

“I don’t know,” your legs innocently dangled from the side of the bed, trying to win back control of the situation by cutting down on your proximity, and sitting up properly from your half-lying position, “will I?”

“Please?” he begged, cupping one of your cheeks with the palm of his hand and pulling you closer until you could feel each other's breaths. His skin was warm against yours, the roughness of his palm from working non-stop at the shop offset by the tenderness he carried around for you.

And though you wanted to drag this on, enjoying the back and forth, you were so whipped for this man that you couldn’t stop your nonchalant act from crumbling as soon as you heard him once again let out a shy giggle after he nudged your nose with his.

“I love you.”

Voice dreamy and saccharine sweet, like confessing to your lifelong desire, you whispered, and just before your lips touched, through lidded eyes and uneven breath he whispered back ‘and I love you’.

After his own confession, you were unable to pay attention to anything that wasn’t him. All your senses were muted as his soft lips gilded against yours. The taste of the honey chapstick you applied almost compulsively melted against his tongue, and he wondered if like him, you could still faintly taste the strawberry chapstick you had gifted him a while ago; the same one he hadn’t stopped using since, going as far as asking the hospital staff to retrieve it from the pockets of the jeans he was wearing the day of the accident for him.

He bit back a whimper when he felt you bite down gently on his bottom lip, unable to ignore the way you smirk against the kiss once your hand makes its way up to the side of his neck to rest on his pulse point, in the perfect position to feel his heart doing somersaults underneath your touch. It made him want to melt right against you; the more you wandered down his body, the bigger the urge to hold you grew.

His calloused yet delicate fingers traced your skin, running from the apples of your cheeks down to your chin, coaxing you to fully give into him as he traced the tip of his tongue against your lips. He could feel himself grow hard once you gave him permission to enter, basking on the hidden whine you let out at the feeling of the warm muscle enveloping your whole body, drool pooling at the corner of both your lips.

Away from your face, he trails his hands slowly down your torso confidently ghosting the skin before the facade is broken the moment he almost freezes up once he gets to your chest. The blush on his cheeks deepened as you took notice of his apparent nervousness, laughing it off before he continued his path down to your hips,

He was sure he was ready to die right here in your arms the moment you softly suck on his tongue, his eyes almost rolling towards the back of his skull as you hands grazed his clothed dick. The teasing touch made him groan, the vibrations against your lips feeding the urge to get closer to him. And almost like he had read your mind, you shivered at the tight grip of his hips guiding you over lap until you were resting flush against him.

“‘Want you so bad.” He panted in between giggles, nudging your noses together and pecking your lips over and over again. You barely managed to catch your breath between his kisses; when he leaned away you pulled him in, and when you did so he tried to follow the path of your lips until they were once again interlocked with his. The two of you ignored the satisfying burn of your lungs like the feeling of your bodies close against each other was good enough of a replacement for oxygen itself. “–Waited so long for this.”

He pulled you down a little harder against him, bucking his hips against your. Mewling into the kiss, you wrapped both your arms around his shoulders, perhaps taking too much enjoyment in the minimal friction against your core. The sensation of him rutting desperately against you forced you to meet his attempts for more with an equal amount of want.

“You feel so good.” you cooed, whimpering as he sucked at the skin behind your ear. “Shin, Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

Before he could stop himself, he was groaning at the praise, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck and refusing to come back up to meet your lips to hide the raging blush tinting his skin, spreading from his cheeks up to his ears.

“You like that? Like it when I say you're doing a good job?”

He hummed, though it sounded more like a whimper, and waited no time to pull your face back against his, connecting your lips again in a messy kiss, to, presumably, stop you from teasing him. He took the opportunity to indulge himself, once again tracing the outline of your lower lip with his tongue and nipping at the supple skin in retaliation.

In spite of your own reluctance, you broke the kiss first, finding the way he tried to chase your lips with his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, indescribably cute. You took a minute to fully take in this version of him, his breath uneven and with a thin sheen of sweat making some of his black locks stick to his forehead. His lips were puffy, glistening with saliva as they part involuntarily in an enrapturing appetite.

He looked so pretty like this, you didn’t think you’d have it in you to control yourself.

Once you had lowered the sheets covering his legs, one of your thumbs proceeded to draw circular patterns on his exposed thigh, chuckling at the way he flinched before relaxing against you. Gently ghosting your fingernails over his skin, you hiked up his hospital gown until you had full access to the band of his boxers, toying with the elastic but doing nothing aside from that.

“You want to do this here?” He pulled back, eyes wide and dazed with need yet frazzled at your sudden boldness, as if nearly dry humping in a hospital wasn’t bold enough. His hands played with the hem of your shirt, sending shivers down your spine every time his fingers grazed your skin. He looked like a deer caught in headlines, a way cuter version of Bambi, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose against his cheek before kissing him gently, once, twice, thrice.

“Only if you want to.”

“I do,” he swallowed, clearing his throat to keep himself lucid as he felt the tips of your fingers breaching the hem of his underwear, cold against the warmth of the covered skin. “Fuck, I really do, I need you s’bad I–”

“You fucking disgust me.”

Like a pair of surprised kittens, the sudden interruption had the two of you jumping away from each other, almost falling off the bed while desperately trying to pull the sheets back into place. In turn Shinichiro tried helping you regain your balance, grabbing your arm before you crashed against the floor, nearly pulling down one of the hospital monitors in the process.

“Don't you know how to knock?” You bit back, taking his comment more personally that you should’ve.

“Didn’t think it’d be necessary.” Wakasa crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting the lollipop in his mouth from one side of his cheek to the other. Standing beside, Benkei held a teddy bear and a lavender flower arrangement, mixed along with baby’s breaths and eucalyptus. If anyone had to guess, the bewildered expression he sported only meant he’d rather have his friend die than see whatever blasphemous activities you were performing. But then again, he probably expected to see his friend bedridden and weak instead of the free front row tickets to your ‘dry humping a post-concussed Shinichiro’ expectale. “‘Thought the worst thing we’d come across was him sleeping.”

“Why did you think coming across me sleeping d’be the worst case scenario!?” Shinichiro butted in lightheartedly, though you wouldn’t rule out the possibility of him actually being serious. “Are you saying I look ugly when I sleep?”

“No, you dumbass,” Wakasa deadpanned; even with his usual unbothered facade you could tell he was grateful for the ordinary banter, questioning his stupidity with a hidden smile. “How’re we gonna talk to you if you’re asleep.”

“Wait, what happened? I didn't see,” Takeomi joined in, panting as he held a couple of balloons that had ‘it's a boy!’ written all over them. “These two assholes left me while I was getting something to eat.”

The two of you groaned at the sound of his voice, pressing the heels of your hands against while Shinichiro hid his eyes behind his forearm. Even if you wanted to be lowkey about the whole situation, sweep it under the rug to avoid facing the embarrassment over again, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it from anyone, not even Takeomi, and he wasn’t the brightest.

Shinichiro’s hair was a tousled mess and his skin was dusted pink. Both of your lips were puffy, glistening under the fluorescent lights, and your breathing was uneven still. No matter how much the two of you tried to regulate it back to normal, it seemed to follow the rapid rhythm of each other’s heart beat.

“Nothing happened.” You grumbled, willing to attempt a lousy cover up in spite of your friend’s, including Shinichiro, giggling. Once he found out, it would be impossible for him to let it go. But even so, it took a lot of effort not to join in your friends’ laughter; it was funny to fuck with him—not literally—his puzzled frown as he borderline begged for someone to let him only feeding in your teasing. Still, once he found out. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah, talking about fuck–”

“Wakasa!” “Dude!”

The two of you exclaimed as the blond tilted his head to the side, making his earring jingle. A teasing smile stretched on his lips as the four of you waited for Takeomi to process what was just mentioned. Knowing the speed in which the neurons within his brain transported information, it’d take a little while.

To everyone’s surprise, it only took him a couple of seconds to do so. You could visibly see it in his expression, morphing into one of amazement the minute realisation hit him straight in the face

“Did’ya– No way, you finally fucked?” And though his lack of decorum made the two men beside him laugh louder and the two of you groan as if to muffle his voice, he paid your reaction no mind other than using it as an affirmative response to his question. “No way, congrats dude! Who would’ve thought you needed to almost die just to lose your virginity.”

“I hate you so much.” Shinichiro playfully complained, a stupid grin threatening to make its way onto his lips disproving his claim. Seeing his four best friends standing around him right after waking up from what could’ve been a tragic accident made him feel all sorts of things he found himself unable to explain. It almost made him want to cry once again—happy tears this time.

“Anyway, now that you’ve got someone to stay with,” you changed the topic, interrupting yourself to fix the stray hairs sitting on top of Shinichiro’s head before caressing his cheek with your thumb, “I’ll go check whatever Keisuke’s doing, I‘ll be back in a sec.”

“Wait no, don’t go…” You had to resist the urge to give him another quick peck at the way he dragged out the ‘go’, and instead, grabbed your phone from his bedside table to respond to the missed messages coming from your mom. “Don’t leave me with these people.”

“Very funny Shitty-chiro.” Takeomi fake laughed, letting himself fall on one of the chairs nearby, stretching his arms before fully slumping against the backrest and looking at you. “But’s fine, I left Haruchiyo in charge, Senju’s with them as well.”

“Well that doesn't make things any better, does it.” At your snapping voice, he raised his hands up in surrender, as if the idea of letting a 13 year-old in charge of two 12 year-olds didn't have multiple flaws. Doing a 180° turn, you turned towards Shinichiro, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

“Wait, before you go,” Wakasa interrupted, stopping you from slinging your bag over your shoulder. He took the bright red candy out of his mouth with a pop, using it as a little wand to emphasise his speech, before he continued. “Who confessed first?”

“Yeah!” Takeomi sat at the end of his seat, gaze switching from Shinichiro to you and vice versa. “How did Shinichiro confess to ya’?”

Again, faster than the usual processing speed of his cognitive skills, he managed to string the hints together, gasping at the silence that settled between the two of you as you tried to silently decide who should say what. Shinichiro opened his mouth like a fish, as if trying to come up with something to appease his friend’s reaction before giving up and averting his eyes, pointing at you with his thumb.

Wakasa’s smirk only grew the more Takeomi seemed to sink back into the chair in dejection. “‘gotta pay up Omi-omi.”

The ruffling of bills and the complaints birthed out of the apparent loser’s mouth distracted you momentarily. You were about to laugh at the scene in front of you, two of them waiting with their hands stretched out as Takeomi reluctantly placed the wrong amount in his palm, grunting when Wakasa noticed it wasn’t the amount they had agreed on, before it clicked in your head.

“Pay up,” you mumbled to yourself, “Pay up, pay up? Wait, did you three bet on us?”

“Kinda,” Benkei sent you a reassuring smile, counting the hundred yen bills that were handed to him once again; when it came to money matters, Takeomi wasn’t someone you could trust. “We bet on who’d confess first.”

“And you didn’t bet on me?!” Shinchiro exclaimed, a little louder than he intended.

“Sorry man, ‘didn't have faith in you,” Wakasa folded the five crinkled bills in half before stashing them in his back pocket. “After your failed attempt I kinda accepted you weren’t going to win, Benkei was always betting against you, though.”

“But ‘ya admit it!” Takeomi jumped from his seat, waving his now empty wallet in the air like he was fencing with the worn out leather rectangle. “He did confess first!”

“Hell no, it only counts if it was a successful confession.”

“So the bet wouldn’t count if one of them got rejected? What's the point then!”

Wakasa groaned, pressing his temples with his thumb and middle finger, “It only counts if the two of them understand whatever was done was a confession.”

“But the lighter was him confessing!”

“Takeomi, that was the vaguest confession to ever be seen by the entirety of mankind.”

“What confession are you talking about…?” You interrupted the animated discourse with a question. In spite of enjoying the banter between your friends, you remained in the dark. Shinichiro had never confessed to you, or even remotely tried to do so. You were a hundred percent certain, after all, had he done so you were sure you’d be dating by now.

“The lighter you always carry around,” Takeomi responded, “the fish one.”

Instinctively, you patted the pocket where your zippo lighter sat, carefully trailing your thumb lightly over the red imprints as you pulled it out. It looked almost exactly the same way as it did during the summer festival. The only difference, aside from the way the metal reflected the cold hospital lights instead of fireworks and paper lanterns, were the couple of dents on the metal and the previously well-defined engraving softening over the years.

“S‘not just a fish,” Shinichiro chuckled, letting himself fall back on the bed while hiding his flustered state behind a seemingly lame explanation. At this rate, he was sure his skin could be permanently stained a pinkish-red. “It's a red koi fish.”

“Wait,” you snapped your head from the lighter to him, letting your mouth fall open in surprise, “you, you meant that?”

“What do you…mean?” Shinichiro poked, voice twisting and forcing the ‘mean’ to come out strained. Watching your shoulders tense up and, somehow, simultaneously relaxed made him wary of the whole situation, like the universe itself was playing a prank on him. And though unlikely, he wasn't ruling out the possibility of random cameras popping up from behind the door or through the window or maybe from underneath his bed with a huge poster reading ‘you’ve been pranked!’.

He had given you that lighter seven years ago, the engravings were probably faded by now, there was no way…

“Red koi fish mean romantic love, don’t they?”

It took him a couple of seconds to properly run your words through his brain, before his eyes widened in amusement mixed with the mild disappointment his seventeen year-old-self had forced himself to ignore after his confession had gone wrong. “You knew!?”

“Uh…yeah? We learned that in literature class.” You shrugged with a sheepish smile in an attempt to tame down the laughter that had started bubbling in your throat at his mortified reaction. He groaned at your response, throwing one of his arms over his eyes, the sound mixing with a cry as the movement pulled on the IV digging into his arm.

He licked his lips a couple of times and rubbed the skin above the needle in an attempt to soothe the ache. Stalling, he was trying to buy time before he asked anything that could potentially hurt him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Aside from flustered and pouty, slightly amused at his own failed attempt, he appeared to be a little sullen, perhaps even sad. It was obvious to you, though you didn’t know why; maybe he was blaming himself for losing the opportunity to get in a relationship with you way earlier. Or, maybe he blamed himself for putting any sort of pressure on you; back then, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure how you felt about him, so maybe you had purposely ignored his advances because you didn't want him. But that couldn’t be it, could it? Less than a couple of minutes ago the two of you were confessing your love for each other, so if that were to be the case, when did your feelings for him start to change? “Did, uh, did you not like me back then?”

Looking at his hopeful yet gloomy expectant features, he appeared so small and vulnerable in front of you, you wanted to give him a hug. The question had visibly caught you off-guard, your brows furrowing as soon as he was done talking. Who would’ve thought that a seemingly innocuous event from your past would come back transformed into an apparent irrational insecurity. It prompted yet another silence upon the two of you. And though it felt eternal, it lasted only a couple of milliseconds, interrupted by both your annoyance and Takeomi munching on the chips he bought at an inflated price on one of the hospital’s vending machines.

“Do you mind?” You turned towards the obnoxious mistake you had chosen as a friend, snickering as he shrugged in questionable indifference, mumbling a muffled ‘go on’ before motioning you two to continue with a shake of his hand. But at the lack of positive feedback from anyone in the room he stopped himself to explain.

“What? It’s like watching a live romcom,” he shoved more chips into his mouth, “The ones we watch every friday, ‘ya know what I mean?”

“Okay,” Benkei clapped both his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention before he pulled Takeomi into a standing position and pushed both him and an amused Wakasa towards the door. “Seems like all of us are hungry, we’re heading to the cafeteria real quick, we’ll send Baji back up when we’re done, sounds good?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Benkei.” You smiled at him, watching the three of them leave and sighing in satisfaction when you saw the way the gentle-giant punched Takeomi’s arm once they were far enough for his complaints to appear silent. “But to answer your question,” you turned towards Shinichiro once again, sitting at the edge of the bed and resting your hand on top of his. You could see the way he visibly relaxed against your touch, the warmth of your skin coaxing his insecurities away little by little. “I did like you very much back then, too much for it to be considered healthy, I'm pretty sure…”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Well, I, you know,” you stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling the embarrassment for your younger self was all over you. Why didn’t you say anything? Well, in hindsight, you didn’t think Shinchiro had it in him to use a literary reference as a means of confession. Not because he was stupid, that was Takeomi's role, but because it was very un-Shinichiro. You had been witness to the countless failed confession attempts and nothing included anything as subtle and detailed as the lighter he had gifted you. Back then, he professed his brimming infatuation with an honest smile, the well-rehearsed question ‘would you go out with me?’ and absolutely nothing else. And though the ‘courting’ period included him acting all whipped and soft, he was usually very blunt when it came to asking people out, gentle but direct.

Although, thinking about it a little bit more in depth, he had always been very romantic, sometimes cringy with the shitty pick up lines, but during movie nights he had always chosen movies with clear romantic subplots, and you can recall that one romance poetry book he kept borrowing from the library, unable to finish it before returning it—at least that’s what you thought, by the amount of times he had taken it home.

When you were both in middle school and high school, he would watch couples holding hands with a gentle smile, sometimes going as far as spacing out and letting a dreamy sigh fall from his lips—he always brushed off the person asking the reason behind his sighing, but you were paying attention to him more often than not, so of course you knew—and of course, you couldn’t forget the many times he had shared hypothetical scenarios with the four of you, most of them consisting of him fantasising out loud the sort of dates he’d like to have with his hypothetical s/o or what he would do for them before being relentlessly teased by all of you.

So, in retrospect, him trying to confess through a pretty much evident symbol extracted from one of your favourite books was a very un-Shinichiro, Shinichiro thing to do, if that made any sense.

“I think…I might’ve gaslit myself into believing it was a coincidence, didn't wanna get my hopes up.”

“I thought, I– I thought it was pretty obvious that I liked you.” He chuckled, scooting to the side in order to make more space for you to lay, next to him, the same you had done most of the days you had spent here. “Everybody knew I did.”

“Wait, really? I thought you were being friendly!” You let out a laugh, watching him soften up even more at your obliviousness and simultaneously hold back laughter of his own. “Don’t laugh at me! You were flirtier with Wakasa than with me!”

“You can’t blame me!” He finally laughed along with you, interlocking your fingers together and pulling you close until you were squished next to him, and waited for you to get comfortable before continuing his spiel. “Waka’s my best friend, we’ve always been like that, and you know it.” He nuzzled his cheek against your head, muttering the words in the quietest way possible, like he didn’t want to be heard by anyone but you. “Plus I couldn't flirt with you, I'd blush and cry afterwards.”

“Yeah, I’d’ve cried if you flirted with me as well.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it in a good way! Happy tears or whatever.” You sighed with a giddy grin, caressing his cheeks with the back of your hand before smushing them together, forcing a pout and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I promise I’ll forever be in love with you.”

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grape-jucie-dog · 26 days ago

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I'm going on a yap session about my Devil AU because 600 Strike actually gave me an idea. This is a long post so I apologize-

Ok so if you're new and aren't aware of the Devil AU, THAT'S TOTALLY FINE. I haven't posted much about it here on Tumblr, and I'm not a huge creator or anything, so of course not many people know of it.

The Devil AU is an AU where Athena plots to overthrow Zeus after the events of Epic the musical. This AU was inspired by Teagan's song, DEVIL, hence the name. There are two storylines with this AU: The canon version, where all of the Gods help her overthrow Zeus, and the non canon version, where the gods are against the idea, which makes Athena snap at them too. Originally it took place after God Games, but there's a fic I wrote that gave me a better idea and a better motive for Athena.

The main motives are:

The death of Pallas. I know there's a few people who don't believe Pallas and Athena were lovers, but I like to think at the VERY least it was one-sided love or a QPR. Whatever the relationship was (friends, one sided, lovers, family even), this really shook Athena. I like to think Zeus truly didn't mean to harm Pallas, but in this AU he was extremely dismissive about her death, which greatly upset Athena.

God Games of course. In Greek Mythology, it's said that Athena is Zeus' favorite child, and she does basically whatever he orders her to do. And the one time she asks him for something, he strikes her with lightning that leaves her with scars and seizures? I'd be pissed too.

The death of the royal family. In this AU, Zeus kills Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus as a punishment, believing Athena was "getting too soft". This of course REALLY shakes Athena up, and it's her final straw before she completely snaps.

Now, I know this AU will take A LOT of time in the story. There needs to be enough time for Athena to heal more from her injuries, and plotting to kill the king of gods and your own father would definitely take a lot of time to do. I don't have a confident timeline just yet, BUT, I do have weapons.

Athena has two new weapons. Well, technically one, but we'll get to that in a second. I gave her these metal claws to represent talons, mostly because I thought it was cool, and also because the vivid image of Athena scratching one of Zeus' eyes out lives rent free in my head. The other thing is an upgrade to her spear, which doubles as a Scythe as well now. In the main/official storyline, Hephaestus gives these to her. In the no canon version of the AU, Athena basically steals them.

Now for the idea 600 Strike ended up giving me

Originally, I was gonna have Athena fight Zeus alone. She gets pretty battered, but she ends up defeating him by slicing him in half with her scythe (after getting her arm snapped by Zeus-). I'm probably going to keep this for the non canon story tbh, anyways-

600 strike made me picture Athena and the other gods all fighting Zeus (I'm tempted to throw Ody in the fight because of Hades being like "lol let's piss him off more by bringing Odysseus). Zeus laughs in their faces, being all like "You're too weak to stop me" and Athena goes "Oh really?" and uses her Scythe to slice off his limbs. Then it turns back into a spear, and she stabs him repeatedly. And after that she uses her claws to dig into him further before resulting to just punching the absolutely daylights out of him. Eventually Ares pulls her away from Zeus (who's definitely knocked TF out after all of that), and Athena finally gets her revenge for everything Zeus has done.

That's basically it. I'm still kind of developing this AU and trying to fill in the plot holes, BUT LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK! And feel free to ask me questions or give me suggestions :3

And I'm so sorry this post is so long-

#grape rambles #epic athena #epic the musical #epic the musical athena #epic the musical au #epic the musical devil au #devil athena epic the musical #long post #epic the musical zeus #devil au #alternate universe #grapes art

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 7 months ago

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Can you please write 80s Dave Mustaine can’t sleep because he’s thinking about fem reader, after not being able to sleep he jerks off to the thought of her, moaning her name over and over

A/n: I'm trying to post more but I just haven't felt like writing and I've been busy with school and stuff, my posts might be getting shorter so I apologize but I hope reading what I write is still enjoyable :3

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, if you think I missed something please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Dave was lying in bed, tossing and turning because every position was uncomfortable, but it was more than that. He couldn’t get you out of his head. He just couldn’t.

It started clean but as the sky got darker so did his thoughts. He’d think about how pretty your face is, then it would drift to how pretty your face would look sucking him off. Drool and precum dripping down your chin, tears streaming down your puffy, red cheeks. Bruised lips taking his cock so well.

He’d think about an outfit you wore, then it would go to a skirt or dress you wore. He’d think about hiking it up and bending you over a table as you cried out for him. He wanted to feel you so bad, he didn’t care how he just needed it.

He rolled over again with a huff, seeing the clock he had on his bedside table and it read 4:34 am in big, bold, red letters. He groaned and rolled onto his back once more, closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to fall asleep but again all he saw was you, naked on all fours for him.

Dave smiled to himself and dug his hand under the waistband of his sweat to start palming himself through his underwear. Soft moans left him as he kept going with this thought of you begging for him, saying how much you liked it, praising him for anything and everything.

Every pump of his hand he pictured fucking into you. He imagined your walls fluttering around him when you got closer. When he got close was when his mind stopped processing everything so clearly and instead of having a set storyline he just thought of you covered in his cum while you touched yourself. A thin layer of sweat coating you as you called out for him.

Dave couldn’t keep himself quiet and started moaning out your name. “Fuck, feels so good, just like that, just like that~!” His eyes screwed shut as his hips bucked up into his hand, milking him for all his balls are worth.

His breathing was heavy and his heart was pounding. He turned his head over and saw the time staring back at him, 4:42 am. He groaned and reached for the phone, quickly punching in your number and waiting for you to pick up. He kept working on his cock, the first round not having been enough. Tears pricked his eyes and his voice was unsteady when you finally answered.

“Please, please I need help.” He whined.

#dave mustaine #megadeth #dave mustaine smut #megadeth fanfiction #megadeth smut #megadeth x reader #megadeth imagines #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine fanfiction

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maehwajuuuu-chu · 29 days ago

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[Seiren • Starsilver Sparrow]

“Eula, how would you feel if I suddenly get amnesia, hm? You know like Vetur finally having enough of me and shoving me off the balcony—" “Sister, Sir Meier would have a stroke if he were listening to our conversation,” Eula briskly piped in, lowering her chipped teacup with a delicate clink before shooting an eagle-like glare at her older sister. “However, more importantly why would you suggest such wretched events? Is Vetur being bothersome, once again? I thought he had become responsible and stopped after I had made him slip on his own clothes—MMF.” The older sister groaned, plucking another biscuit from the tray and warningly held it up to the younger’s girl’s indignant glower as she menacingly munched.

“It’s only hypothetical, you funny little lemon. I’ll get a mirror - you’re all blown up like an angry pufferfish.” She tapped the biscuit against Eula’s scrunched up nose and slowly pushed it into her mouth. “Keep this up and you’ll only get porridge for the next week, you hear me?” - - -

Pain rattled through her gritted teeth as a gloved fist yanked her up by her knotted hair. Smouldering eyes of glowing coal glowered down resentfully at her behind a cracked mask, with the distant groaning curses of fallen Fatui heard in the background as they attempted to crawl out from pieces of rubble and jutting stalagmites of golden creedite.

“What the hell is this?”

She smirked, blood smudged across her battered lips. Past the shattered frame of the tavern’s window, the hilt of the scythe glinted in the flickering broken light and Adrik’s hand curled over its blade in a last futile attempt.

How bloody damn hilarious.

“Hey! What are you gawking at?” The agent jerked onto her hair, his fire-water tinged breath spewing against her face, “Damn it, are you deaf?! Listen to me, you knight fool!!”

Blunt spikes dug into her cheek as a gauntlet slammed against her face. She spat out a hoarse curse, blood spattering from her lips and she venomously fixed a glare at the bloodless grin. Knees immediately slammed to the rocky ground, as the agent dropped her to the ground. Gloved fingers reached to peel away the draped bloodied locks of hair from her face, crooked teeth stretched.

“Now, I can see my punching bag a bit more clearly.” He leered, flicking a strand of copper with deep chuckle rumbling from his throat, “Oh! Look at this blood - So young and vibrant!”

Acrid burning crawled up her throat, eyes dilated in trembling rage. She smacked away the lingering touches, letting wisps of hair tear out from her bloodied hairline.

“Get ya damn mitts out of my hair.” she hissed out, defiance sharply flashing across her glower, “And just get this over and done with, you bastard.” The agent coughed out a surprised laugh, flexing the stained brass reinforcers with eager clicks. He stepped back as he pulled the flask from his jacket and popped its lid off, swinging its contents down his mouth. He wound in his fingers into an anticipating fist while he drew it back. Bracing for the impact, she closed her eyes as she tightly held her vision in her bleeding hand.

“I’d rather die remembering the lifetime we spent together, than not recognise your face when I see you again.” - - - YIPPEEE finally was able to finish this phew. Anyways say hello to Seiren, my chaotic little limb-hogging treasure hoarder! She's one of my older guys, she's been in my brain since 2022! She's one of Rai's old friends and I can't wait to yap about her, about her wife and about her daughter, and also yap about the whole Aster's Oath. She's one of the characters who are highly important to the main storyline! (Yes I did look at the genshin treasure hoarders and went what if murderous lesbean. and yes that is how she was birthed) Ok lols I'll stop rambling, but please keep an eye out for her in future stuff! :D

-> Got the drip marketing background from @/chie_zuu on twitter!

#genshin impact oc #genshin oc #genshin impact #oc: Seiren #Mondstadt #FR WANTED TO LIKE SHOW EVERYONE WITH RAI IN THE FIRST POST HERE #is ok I can do one at a time #art #oc

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westwingwolf · 5 months ago

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Why the Chenford Break Up Era Needs to Come to a Close Sooner Rather than Later on The Rookie...

I've expressed my opinion on the Chenford break over several long posts in the Chenford Discord. I'm sure I've annoyed them plenty with my thoughts, but I needed a place to vent so thank you for being patient with me and letting me rant. I swear I am trying to do better, but maybe getting all of my thoughts out in once place will finally calm the beast inside me enough to hold back any further ranting. This post will focus on what should come next after the break up, and not my opinions on whether the break up should have happened at all. It's over. It's done. We're here now, and I have to accept that so I can move on to enjoy what comes next.

Anyways, I thought I would collect all my thoughts here for those of you who are not in the discord. Whether you agree or disagree with me, that's fine. I'm making this public so I know I am opening myself up to disagreements. Just know I'm likely to respond if I can, and I'm less likely to give up discussing my opinion until long after it is necessary. So fair warning, everyone should proceed with caution.

On the highly unlikely chance that someone involved with the show sees this and it makes them think about what stories the show wants to tell, then feel free to share.

I foresee this getting long as the introduction is already this long, so proceed behind the cut if you dare... (Spoiler alert: it is very long.)

First off in most typical break up storylines on television (Because keep in mind I am strictly talking about how these storylines are portrayed in fiction for maximum dramatic effect. Real life is a totally different thing.) , there are certain elements that play out in a break up that is always meant to be temporary. And make no mistake, I do believe this break up is temporary. I refuse to believe otherwise. It's just a matter of how temporary will it be. I must also commend the writers for hitting these elements in a quicker fashion than I expected. (Whether that turns out to be a good thing or not depends on what comes next, but for now I like it.)

Avoiding each other and thereby avoiding fixing the issues that caused the break up. This element is the biggest key in determining how long the break up can last. The longer the characters avoid talking to each other, the longer the break up can go on without being resolved. As we saw in 607 Crushed, Tim didn't want to talk about it while Lucy did. This set the stage for avoiding the issue. This could have gone on longer with Tim digging his heals in to avoid addressing the issue by first refusing to admit to it, but Tim actually did the adult thing and sought out help. Because he had been thinking about needing help all day and because Lucy gave him that final push to get it when he still wanted to avoid talking to her about their issues. That dramatically cuts into the waiting time of couples getting to the point where they can talk about their problems.

Pining for each other. I will admit I thought 608 and 609 were going to be episodes where Tim and Lucy avoided each other entirely to prolong more of this break up by not having them interact at all, but I was pleasantly surprised and glad to be proven wrong. They had their nice pining and awkward moment in Grey's office in 608 Punch Card. Tim spends time thinking about Lucy and being reminded of her birthday. That leads to the very sweet Kojo Birthday Card moment which leads to an even bigger moment of pining for each other in the hall.

Putting aside the relationship problems to help each other and be vulnerable with each other. In 609 The Squeeze even though Lucy is still hurt by the break up, she knows Tim is going through a lot, and so she does what she can to comfort him. Thereby showing that Lucy is still the one who brings out the most vulnerable side of Tim. He put on brave face for Grey and Angela and everyone else, but that moment of melting into Lucy's arms and answering that he is okay now that she's holding him showed just how much he was trying to hold it all in. And he immediately goes back to his brave front once the elevator doors open. Tim has always been his most vulnerable with Lucy and that doesn't change whether they are together or not. Like the Kojo Birthday Card moment, this shows that they still care about one another and they don't let anger from/resentment of/shame about the break up stop them from showing that they care.

Working together in spite of the break up. I was surprised by how quickly they had them working together after their break up. I knew thanks to spoilers that they would have scenes together in 610 Escape Plan, but I expected group scenes. I didn't expect the car scene. Talking about Tim's therapy. Joking about their sex life. They seemed more at ease together after a break up than I thought they would be. Which makes it hard to believe they can go back to any of the major awkwardness from before. A scene like where they can barely speak to each other in Grey's office coming after this kind of moment won't make much sense. Therefore they have to be out of the awkward post break up phase. Again something that significantly cuts down the timeline in delaying getting back together.

Having the talk about their issues or at least getting close to the talk. Now, Tim and Lucy haven't had the full discussion about the breakdown of their relationship and all of Tim's issues. But they are closer to having it 610 then they were back in 607. With Tim going to therapy, with the sense that he wants to continue therapy despite having a psychotic blackmailing therapist, and with the apology he gave Lucy in the elevator along with his promise to repay her kindness in whatever small doses she'll allow; all of that indicates that he is finally in a place to have the necessary discussion about why they broke up. And Lucy wanted to have this talk back in 607 so there no longer seems to be a reason to delay it.

So now with all the steps that The Rookie has already shown through the Chenford break up, it's time to think about what comes next. Typically once the characters finally have the talk about why they broke up, they tend to talk about if they can get back together. We know the show is going to have do a little bit of time jump. A couple of weeks at most. If they want the audience to see this discussion, they'll have to come up with a reason for why they delayed it instead having it almost immediately when the door was open for them to have it at least the next day after that elevation conversation. Which I will allow if only because I really want to see it. If you remember when Wopez broke up in season one; they indicated they needed to talk about their relationship, then the talk they had was off screen and the next time we saw them they were back together. Great for them, but after the emphasis on how important is is that Chenford needs to talk to each other about why Tim broke up with Lucy, I want to see it. So I'm willing to go along with Lucy needed a couple of weeks to wrap her head around the idea and gather her thoughts to confront Tim.

What I will not understand is if Lucy or Tim decide to delay this talk for a long period of time. Lucy wanted to have the talk from the beginning. Tim wasn't ready but there is clear indication that his ready now. In order for Lucy to have agency in this situation and regain the balance that she lost when Tim unilaterally decided to break them up, I do think Lucy needs to be the one to say she wants to talk about their relationship. I don't want it to be like Tim saying "I'm ready to talk about our relationship" and Lucy to respond with "Oh, now you're ready?!" Because she would have a right to be mad. And if Tim is being true about letting Lucy take the lead by accepting his proving how much he appreciates her in however she will allow, then he has to wait for her to make that decision. I can't see Lucy delaying for whatever reason for too long. Even if she is still hurt by his actions, her curiosity about the cause of the break up is too much for her to let it go indefinitely. Think about how she was in 607 where she was desperate to know why. Think about her behavior after Emmett broke up with her, and this is Tim. She cares about Tim way more than she ever cared about Emmett. If nothing else, that need to know why is strong in her.

Having the discussion about the break up has a huge impact on whether or not the break up storyline can continued to be prolonged or not. As long as they avoid having the discussion, the longer they can delay the characters getting back together. But Chenford has already reached the logical point where they should have the discussion. As I've shown above it doesn't make sense for Tim or Lucy to want to delay it, so it cannot work for character reasons. It also doesn't make much sense for storyline reasons because they've already done everything else they can possibly do during a typical break up storyline as I explained above. This is literally the last step. Any delay would strictly be done to drive the viewers crazy, and when your writing becomes so obvious as to manipulate an emotional response from the audience it veers into bad writing territory. Always try to keep the writing more subtle so that it works for a character or a storyline, and not so you can see the pipe laid out easily for the viewer.

Now that I've explained why they have to have the discussion right away, I will talk about how I think it should be handled and what I would like to happen because of it. And when I say right away, I mean season 7 premiere. I'll give them until 702 if they have a lot going on action wise, but no more wasting time after that.

As I said, I want Lucy to have agency. That means she decides when they have this discussion. That also means giving her a lot more control in what happens because of the discussion. I understand her heart is broken. Her trust in Tim is broken. However, I do not believe the answer in fixing any of that is by her deciding not to give Tim another chance right away. Her agency isn't going to be affected by her deciding to stay broken up with Tim. She doesn't somehow get more power or power back because she decides they can't be together right now. I also don't see Lucy punishing herself or Tim because she is hurt and angry. That's Tim behavior, not Lucy behavior. If she loves him, if she wants to be with him, then she will want to fight for them. Also she has a psychology background, is she really going to let Tim suffer because he was going through an identity crisis? Is that at all true the nature of one of the most empathetic characters on the show? Lucy's agency comes in guiding the story and taking control. If anything delaying getting back together, only keeps her level of agency in the relationship/break up at where it was before. If she chooses not to get back together with Tim now, then what will drive her to make that choice later? Something he does to change her mind? Some unknown time when she suddenly feels "ready"? Neither of those options show me she has control. True agency in her relationship is her saying "I want to be with you, but things in our relationship have to change for the better, and this is how I want to make those changes happen."

Which leads to the what I hope comes next. I want to see Tim and Lucy actually working on their relationship. I don't want them going the route of "Everything is better now that we had that break up and got back together so we never have to discuss the problems that led to our break up again." Like what was essentially done to Wopez. Or how every now and then Nolan kind of snarkily brings back up the fact that Bailey hid the truth about Jason from him, and when he does she looks like she wants to beat him over the head with a bat. Actually working on fixing the relationship is more interesting a storyline that prolonging a break up as long as possible only to pretend like everything is okay afterwards because getting back together somehow miraculously solved all their problems. The writers and actors told us the importance of this storyline was to show them as a real couple with real problems. Well, a real couple that wants to be together is going to work on their problems if they have any hope of staying together so show me Chenford working on their problems.

One way to show me Chenford working on their problems is through couple's therapy. I think watching Tim and Lucy in couple's therapy would be funny, heartwarming, and dramatically tension filled with angst when necessary. And there doesn't have to be a lot of sessions. At least not a lot shown. Alexi mentioned not wanting to do the static, almost repetitive nature of Tim in therapy even though theoretically he does want to show ways that Tim has continued therapy. So really all that is needed is one episode of Tim and Lucy in therapy. Bookend the scenes of the episode with the first meeting is them being funny and awkward about it. And the final scene has the more raw and emotional moments that are tough to watch but get them understanding each other better. Then the rest of the episodes all they have to do is talk about what they learned or discussed in therapy or trying some exorcises to improve communication and intimacy.

No matter what Tim and Lucy do to fix their relationship, one thing that is absolutely necessary is to show Tim's growth. He started showing this in the elevator scene in 610 by willingly be more emotionally vulnerable with Lucy. It's never been about that Tim can't be emotionally vulnerable with her. He's more vulnerable with her than anyone. It's about Tim willing to put himself out there without Lucy having to ask or work to pull his feelings out of him. He pushes his feelings down so much that he doesn't ask for help when he needs. He needs to learn to ask for help. And he needs to learn to accept that help when it is offered. I would like to see Tim have another personal crisis, but this time instead of hiding and ghosting Lucy, he tells her about it immediately. She doesn't even have to ask or notice that something is off about him, he just tells her that he has problem and he wants her help in whatever way she can help him. That shows that Tim has grown and that he trusts Lucy to allow her to see the messy parts of himself. We know Lucy has seen plenty of the messy side of Tim and still loves him, but there is a part of Tim who is still afraid Lucy will walk away if he causes too much trouble. That's part of the reason he broke up with her. As much as he wanted to protect her, he also wanted to protect himself by not having her walking away from him. In his mind he lost Isabel because he didn't do enough and she said that living up to his standards was too much for her. He lost Rachel because he couldn't move for her job, and she couldn't give up that opportunity either. He lost Ashley because he couldn't give up being a cop, and she couldn't deal with that kind of life for him. Time and again has shown him that he isn't enough for people all the way back to probably feeling like is some kind of disappoint to his dad. And anyone who stays with him is going to be dragged down by him. The sad irony in that Lucy feels the same way in how her parents treat her. Lucy is the person who can understand Tim the most and love him for all of it. So an opportunity for Tim to willingly put himself out there for Lucy would be a great turning point in their relationship to show it has changed for the better.

Now you are thinking, well once everything is fine between Tim and Lucy isn't that going to make things boring again and put us right back to where we were before? I would argue that things were never boring, but if you are asking if it is not better to prolong the break up so that at least Tim and Lucy have a storyline filled with tension rather than things going back to being good between them again, I say no for these reasons:

Because the working through their problems storyline is filled with tension and needs to happen. It is still wrought with tension of whether or not it will work out. Arguably more so than just waiting to see if they will change their minds about getting back together. Working on their issues means putting all those problems right back in the forefront. It means talking about them instead of avoiding them. It's raw and messy and potentially shows all the cracks in the relationship that has to be repaired.

A longer delay in getting back together means we are less likely to see them actually work on their problems. If God forbid, they take a whole season for Tim and Lucy to decide to get back together, then we don't get any of that. If we manage to get a season 8, and Tim and Lucy don't get back together until the season 7 finale, then what is likely to happen is we come back to season 8 with them saying they worked it all, are fine, and will go on happily with their lives. Which is great, but I'm still going to be pissed that I had to endure a season and a half of a break up and I didn't even get to see the effort of them working on their problems. And if we don't get a season 8, if the writers find out near the end of this season that it is their last and they spent so much time on this break up, then what we get is a rushed getting back together to leave us satisfied that they are together but not particularly happy in the execution of it.

Once they are back together, and even if they are happy, they still have other issues that could cause them problems. One is Lucy wants to work undercover. The other is the chain of command issue. These problems only have significance to Tim and Lucy's relationship if they are together. If Lucy goes undercover while her and Tim are broken up, Tim is probably still worried about her, but there isn't much he can do about it. If they are broken up, Lucy not being around because of UC is no different than Lucy not being around because they are broken up. It doesn't really capitalize on all the problems between them if they aren't together to make it an issue. Same with the chain of command problem. Doesn't really matter if they aren't together. Neither of these issues can be tackled to their full extent by the writers is Chenford is not back together first. And if these problems are solved before Chenford get back together, then it's taking away a potential storyline when Chenford inevitably gets back together. Becomes a little too easy for them if Lucy get a job out of being under Tim's chain of command and decides she doesn't want to do UC anymore before she gets back together with Tim. So get them back together sooner, and they can address the storyline sooner.

Now here we are at what storylines can Tim and Lucy have after they are back together, have worked out their problems, and seem to be in a good place.

1.) The chain of command issue: I get that it was a whole thing in 5B and eventually led to Metro Tim. Sadly, because I think the writers really do want to put focus on either Patrol or Detectives, that means no more Metro Tim. If we are all honest with ourselves, as much as we love Metro Tim, the show wasn't really do enough with him in Metro. They spent just as many storylines, if not more, figuring out how to get Tim back on Patrol and/or working with Lucy as they did doing his own Metro thing. For this reason, I think Tim is going to remain on Patrol until the end or when they promote/retire Grey so Tim becomes Watch Commander (which I hope also isn't until the end if they decide to retire Grey.) They came up with a storyline that still doesn't make any sense to me to keep Lucy from getting promoted to Detective in order to keep her on Patrol so I assume that means they want her to remain on Patrol for as long as possible too. (Seriously, Primm, you got promoted and presumably a position you wanted because of Lucy so take your male ego and shove it up your ass.) So that means Tim and Lucy both on Patrol for the foreseeable future. As mentioned above this isn't an issue for them until they get back together so it's not an issue the writers need to address until they get back together. And no point in fixing it prior to that if they want to have the storyline. But how to fix it?

Simple answer: Sergeant Grey says it is okay for them to date. Yeah, that seems to fly in the face of making it an issue the first time around. But Grey was also there for that time. He saw what Tim and Lucy were willing to sacrifice to be together. He saw what those sacrifices ultimately led to. He paired them to work together even when they were dating and knows they can still work together well. They weren't too terrible even during the adjustment period of their break up so he didn't have to say anything more than once about making it work. If he sees them working just as well together as they are broken up, and none of it causes problems, then he can make the call to let them date. Chain of command issue be damned if he says it is not a problem. Especially if he doesn't want to lose one or two of his best officers. At this point, Chenford has been through enough so who is really going to care? Are the fans going to put up a big fuss if it means if we get to see Tim and Lucy not only dating but also working together? If the writers insist they have to remain on Patrol, then this is a concession they have to give us to make it work.

More complicated answer: Promotions As unlikely as it seems, I say just give everyone the necessary promotions. That starts with promoting Grey to captain. (Shh. I don't care about Lieutenant. ) Grey has been treated like the show's captain since Captain Andersen died. He is always in charge for the big events. Angela and Nyla go to Grey to talk about cases even though he isn't their boss anymore because they work in the Detective department. When Tim got promoted and worked in Metro, he was the same rank as Grey and answered to Pine, and yet somehow he usually answered to Grey anyway. The LAPD is currently going through a big shake up; some higher ups were probably compromised with this whole blackmail scandal. I'm sure one or two captains could have lost their jobs/rank. Promoting Grey wouldn't really change anything storywise in terms of what he does, but it would make more sense. Once Grey is promoted, Tim becomes Watch Commander. During this time Lucy takes the sergeant exam and passes easily. Grey creates a position in which Lucy is now his aide. She becomes his right hand woman when crisis mode. She can work on Patrol as sort of a liason role like Tim had in Metro so she can keep doing Patrol storylines. And if Grey is okay with it, she can even do some undercover work when necessary. It keeps Lucy available for all potential storylines while also giving her a well deserved promotion. And she will officially be under Grey's chain of command only and not Tim's.

2.) Tim and Lucy moving in together storyline. Once Tim and Lucy are back together, things get awkward for Celina as she now takes over Tamara's role of constantly catching Tim and Lucy in the middle of kissing. And maybe other things. Only a thousands time worse for everyone because Tim is Celina's boss and they all work together. Celina doesn't want to know that much about her boss/coworker's sex life, and they wouldn't like her knowing about it either. So after some very humorous and awkward moments, Tim and Lucy discuss moving in together. Are they prepared for this? Are in they in a good place after their break up? (Which is another reason they should get back together soon rather than later so there is more time between being in a good place and moving in together so it makes more sense.) Do they want to move in together to a place they already have or find a new place all together that is all their own? If they find a new place, they don't have to worry about Tim's home looking different yet again. That's at least two or three episodes. Build up the awkwardness with Celina, have the discussion about moving in, finding a place and moving in.

3.) Lucy getting a longterm undercover assignment opportunity. This storyline would ideally happen just as Tim and Lucy feel happy and secure in their relationship and have taken a big step like moving in together. They finally have to discuss what this means for them and if they truly can handle it. I think Lucy will have to take it and they will be able to make it work because they've put in all the effort that came before with working on repairing their relationship to make it stronger. If the show gets an 8th season, I can see this as a cliffhanger so that they can use the break between seasons to be a time jump so Lucy can be UC for months without having to isolate her for too long from the rest of the characters. Come back in the season 8 premiere with the end of the assignment winding down to an big action packed finish worthy of a premiere. And then Lucy decides she hates the isolation of longterm UC because she is a social person who needs to be around the people she loves. So she never does longterm UC again, and it is no longer an issue for Tim and Lucy. If this is the final season, then same storyline and outcome but sped up over a few episodes with an even more dramatic conclusion of Tim & Lucy hating being apart so they decide to get married.

And finally, I present you with the additional benefits of getting Tim and Lucy back together sooner rather later:

Secret Dating Era Redux: Tim and Lucy hiding their relationship once again, but this time it's more difficult and potentially more funny. Tim sneaking out of Lucy's apartment early in the morning without getting caught by Celina. Tim and Lucy having to act sad about being broken up even though they are back together. Other people trying to set them up in front of each other, and having to come up with excuses to say no. All coming to the ultimate conclusion where everyone finds out they are dating again. Just want the fans wanted: the everyone finds out reveal. I say Nolan should still be the last to know.

Tim finds out out Lucy dated Nolan: Maybe it comes up in their therapy sessions. Maybe Lucy mentions it when she talks about the issue with dating a cop. Whatever the way it happens, it's best if Tim and Lucy are together when he finds outs to really milk it for a potential issue. Also great to see Tim finding ways to take out his annoyance about it on Nolan. Bonus points if it if happens during the secret dating era redux so Nolan has no idea why Tim is mad at him.

Tim and Lucy having fun arguments again: Comparing their first date to their second first date or whether it's their second second first date. What counts as their anniversary? When they started dating? When they started dating again? Do they have two anniversaries? Does Lucy only want two anniversaries because she wants twice as many presents? The list goes on and on for how they can try to put humor into the idea of the break up once they know they are going to be okay after getting back together.

So there you have all my reasons for why and how Tim and Lucy should get back together sooner rather than later. I know we all want them pining for each other. I get it, but ask yourself how much time do you really want to wait to see them get back together. After the initial break up, there was a three week break of no new episodes, then four episodes where they are broken up, and now we wait 8 months just to see season 7. So that's 10 months of dealing with this break up already, and we don’t even know how much longer it will take. Do you want to wait even longer or do you want to see Tim and Lucy fix their relationship as soon as possible?

As a treat for those who suffered through this long ass rambling of my thoughts, I present you with a snippet of my new multichapter fic which I hope to finish soon so I can begin posting it in July. It's a Chenford fic based on the Once Upon A Time tv series concept. Basically if fairy tale characters were in the real world.

After they finish their meals, Lucy brings Tamara a pillow and a blanket for the night. When Tim sees that she has brought a second pillow and blanket for herself, he asks, “What do you think you are doing?”

“Staying the night with Tamara,” Lucy answers plainly like that should be obvious.

“This isn’t a slumber party. She is still our prisoner. You actually have to guard her,” Tim insists.

Lucy scoffs in disbelief. “You don’t trust me to do my job?”

“I trust you implicitly. I don’t trust her,” he points at Tamara, “not to give you some sob story that tugs at your heartstrings and has you handing over the keys.”

“You know what? Fine.” Lucy takes said keys and opens the cell. Stepping inside she throws down her pillow and blanket on the other bed. She then reaches her arm through the bars to lock the door from the inside before tossing the keys back to Tim. “You can let me out in the morning, and not have to worry about our prisoner escaping in the middle of the night.”

“And what are you going to do if there is a fire or an earthquake?” Tim asks smugly, thinking he has the upper hand.

Lucy shrugs as she challenges him on that unlikely scenario. “I guess I’ll have to trust that you can race back here quickly enough to let us out before the building crashes down on us.”

Tim doesn’t respond. Instead he leaves, and Tamara thinks he is admitting defeat and going home. But he quickly returns with his own pillow. “Just how many pillows does Smitty keep in this place?”

“Enough to build a fort,” Lucy answers as she sets up her bed. Not surprised at all that Tim is choosing to stay.

“Figures,” Tim responds as he puts his feet up on the desk while situating his pillow between his head and his chair. “Don’t stay up too late gossiping. We have a trial to attend in the morning.”

Lucy shakes her head, but fondly tells him, “Goodnight, sir.”

Tim answers with a grunt and nothing more.

Lucy seems less interested in gossiping and more interested in telling ghost stories. “Have you ever heard the one about Gracey Manor? It’s a local legend about the mansion that rests on the highest hill at the edge of town.”

Tamara and Lucy spend the next couple of hours talking and playing with a deck of cards Lucy brought with her. When they finally do go to sleep, Tim’s eyes are still closed, but Tamara has the sneaking suspicion that he is only resting his eyes. That if any trouble were to happen in the middle of the night, he would awake alert and ready to perform his duties. She knows her own experiences have kept her mindful of never allowing herself to fall too deep into sleep, but she can only wonder why Sheriff Bradford would learn such behavior.

#chenford #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #speculation #a whole lot of speculation #long post #really long post

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herearedragons · 3 months ago

Note

prompt "🎄 there ain’t language for the things i feel" for anyone!

Thanks for the prompt!! feeling normal about this one!! as you can probably tell by the word count!!

Lord Huron lyric prompts

content warnings: Devil-typical stuff (murder, references to past abuse, robot body dysphoria)

spoiler warnings: spoilers for Devil's entire storyline and for the end of The White March Part 2

it's also on AO3 because I've put way too much work into this

there ain’t language for the things I feel (Devil of Caroc x The Watcher, 2964 words)

The Devil of Caroc feels nothing.

Not the floor under her feet. Not the cold mountain air. Not the grip of a knife in her fingers.

She's had to relearn how to move, how to do everything that requires you to know where your body is. It was kinda funny, the look on Galvino's face when his precious "creation" couldn't take a single step forward.

Those first days, part of her wondered if she should just stay that way, a useless heap of metal on the floor that won't move no matter how much you kick or curse at it; maybe then the old madman would deem his experiment a failure and let her rest.

But Galvino didn't take her apart, and, after a few days of sullen motionless defiance, Devil got bored.

The learning was slow, but she had nothing else to occupy herself with, and by the end of the week she was walking. Things would still slip out of her hands when she tried to pick them up, but eventually she had that figured out too.

But while she got the ability to move back — got good at it, even; learned how to be quick and quiet with the mess of metal that her new body was — everything else was gone.

She took to fiddling with her hands just to see them move, tapping her fingers against her own armored plates just to remind herself there's something there at all; carving shit into Galvino's walls and the occasional tree just to see she'd left a mark there, some kind of proof she still exists in the world.

It didn't help much.

Years later, in her dreams she's still folk, and can feel and smell and hurt, and oftentimes the things she dreams feel realer than anything that happens in her waking hours.

She dreams about her home sometimes: about soft rabbit-pelt blankets and the smell of food cooking over a fire, the voices of her folks and her brothers and sister coming from the other room.

More often than that, she dreams about killing.

Sometimes it's the killing she's already done; sometimes it's the killing she still needs to do.

She dreams about Harmke a lot. When she kills him in her dreams, he screams and writhes and gurgles as his flesh splits open under her blade, and she feels his warm blood on her hands.

It doesn't play out like that, when it really happens.

Oh, he screams alright; he makes all the same noises everyone else does, and he bleeds, and he rasps out a last breath, and then he goes still.

And Devil feels nothing.

Nothing.

Not even a tiny bit of what she's felt in her dreams.

And really, she should've known, there's nothing different between that death and all the others she's caused since she woke up inside of this metal thing, but it's —

It's —

It's been the one thing that kept her going, and now it's gone.

And she got nothing from it.

The Watcher's got eyes like golden coins, a tongue sharper than her teeth and a real knack for striking fear into folks two, three, four times her size.

Devil likes her.

She's liked her from the moment she punched Galvino in the stomach and skewered his neck on her blade as he doubled over.

It was clean, fast, precise. Like clockwork. Like a trap closing.

And then she told Devil she did it to read his soul as he died; to get the answers he wouldn't give her when he was still living. To learn how to keep Devil from rusting.

It takes her some time to figure out why the Watcher cares so much.

(Mae, just call me Mae, she says and rolls her eyes like she’s had to repeat that more times than she cares to remember)

Eventually Devil pieces together that Mae’s family's had a history with slavery, and Galvino's bold-faced attempt to sell Devil to her rubbed her wrong enough to kill him for it, and try to see his wrongs made right.

Funny thing is, Mae doesn’t care about the murders much. Seems her family doesn’t have a history with that.

She doesn’t hesitate a second before agreeing to help her track down Harmke.

“It’s only fair,” she says.

Things being fair is important to her. It’s the Goldpact Knight way, never leaving a debt unsettled.

So Mae helps Devil do her killing, and in return, Devil promises to help with hers.

It’s only fair.

Besides, she doesn’t mind Mae half as much as the rest of them, and she’s the only one who can do Devil’s repairs now.

“That’s temporary,” Mae tells her. “You’ll learn to do it yourself, and then you won’t depend on me or anyone else.”

She says it with the same zeal that Pallegina, the feathered girl, has when she talks about her Republics. Devil reckons that might be the way all paladins talk.

By then, it’s after Harmke, after the Battery, and she’s resigned herself to the fact that it’s just going to be like this, forever.

But when Mae looks straight at her with those gold-coin eyes — and she’s got this way of looking that makes Devil feel like she’s really looking at her, seeing something past Galvino’s work that even Devil herself can’t find — and says you won’t depend on anyone else, it almost feels like an oath; a promise that there’s something waiting for her still.

There’s a new dream comes to take the place of the one where she kills Harmke.

In this one, Mae runs a hand through her hair, and then Devil pulls her closer and kisses her. Mae’s warm in her arms, her hand rough with a swordswoman’s calluses against her cheek, and Devil cuts her tongue on one of her fangs and tastes blood.

It feels just as real as the other dreams.

And then she wakes up, a bronze corpse with a mask for a face, and she feels nothing, nothing, nothing.

She should’ve seen this coming. They’ve been trading looks and words for a while now; hard to remember who started it, or when it turned from just figuring each other out to something different.

Mae makes her laugh. She’s got this hardass conviction that lets her stare down a club-swinging ogre and say let’s talk, a worse obsession with words and numbers than Galvino had, and a real short fuse for people wasting her time.

She’s clever, she’s got a way with words, and she’s a beauty to watch in a fight.

Devil would say that’s just how she likes ‘em, but truth is, it’s been so long since she’s liked anyone that she doesn’t really remember.

She just knows she likes Mae. And sometimes, Mae looks at her like she knows, like she thinks about it too.

They’ll never have what Devil's dreams are showing her, though.

Sometimes that gnaws at her so badly that she needs to find something or someone to break, just to get it to stop.

Other times, she’s glad for it.

Part of her was worried she’d grow aimless after Harmke’s death didn’t bring anything she’d hoped for. She couldn’t for the life of her guess that she could still want things other than killing; that she could dream about something that hasn’t got anything to do with Cold Morn.

It’s a part of her that could’ve died in the fires or in Galvino’s cursed machine, and now she knows that it didn’t. That, on its own, is probably worth something.

That, and the way Mae smiles at her sometimes.

Mae frowns, tracing the dent in her chest plate with gloved fingers.

Devil doesn't feel it, of course.

"Try to lift your arm?"

Devil does as asked, lifting her right arm until it gets stuck halfway and doesn't go any further.

"...Alright, put it back down."

She does.

"I think we'd have to open you up and look," Mae says. "And I don't want to do it out here in the snow."

She glances over her shoulder, at the rest of their party taking a second to recover while they try to figure out Devil's situation. Turns out, taking a maegfolc's club straight to the chest is a bad idea even if you're made of bronze; go figure.

The rest of them are doing alright, already patched up by Hiravias' and Mae's joined efforts; Mae herself still has blood in her hair from a cut that just closed up.

Funny thing about flesh: easier to hurt, but sometimes easier to fix, too.

Mae looks back at Devil, and says:

"I think you should fall back. The Eyeless will be going after our reinforcements; you should have a clean shot through."

She's right about that. Even with some of her gears stuck or whatever the Hel happened in there, getting back to the edge of the crater won't be a problem if Devil goes alone.

Except, Mae's hand shakes a little as it withdraws from her chest, and there are dark circles under her eyes, her right eye bloodshot.

She's keeping it together, but she's not well. These god-visions have been pushing her to the limit.

"Sure you won't need me in there?" Devil asks. "Could be trapped. Who'll be disarming that, Kana?"

Mae shakes her head:

"We'll manage."

That's that, then. She won't budge.

Devil shrugs; something screeches and grinds inside of her as she does.

"Fine," she says. "It's your funeral."

"Fine by me as long as it's not yours," Mae parries.

Devil rolls her eyes.

Goddamn paladins.

“Don’t go dying in there,” she tells her.

Mae just grins, all stripes and golden eyes and sharp teeth, and offers her a hand up.

Then, the rest of them go down into the cave, and Devil goes in the opposite direction.

She weaves her way between ogres and Eyeless and Bleak Walkers beating the shit out of each other, unnoticed; they’re all so caught up in the skirmish that she barely needs to hide.

She finds a safe-looking nook near the edge of the crater with a good view of the battlefield, climbs in, and waits.

She must have dozed off at some point, because the rumbling startles her awake.

It's in the ground and in the rocks around her, and her first instinct is to get the Hel out of her hiding spot before she gets crushed. Once she does, she gets a better idea of what's happening: the tremors aren't happening near her, they're coming from the lake.

When she sees the ice begin to crack, she knows something's happening down there, where the rest of them are.

Where Mae is.

Devil takes off running.

She makes it to the water just in time to see them pour out of the cave mouth. Something in her body is making a clicking noise that wasn't happening before, and it's getting on her nerves.

As they scramble across the ice, she moves along the edge of the water to meet them on solid ground. She's got a bad feeling all of a sudden, she doesn't know why, and it's the kind she hasn't had in over a decade.

They get closer.

Sagani and Itumaak make the leap to safety like it's nothing. Kana nearly loses his balance; Devil catches him with her good arm, then Sagani joins in, and they pull until he tumbles forward. Zahua leaps over with Hiravias under his arm, and then it's —

Edér. It's Edér.

And he always goes last, to make sure everyone else makes it through.

Soon as he regains his balance, Devil steps up to him and grabs him by the collar of his armor.

"Where's Mae?" she asks.

She doesn't like the look Edér gives her.

"I'm sorry," he says.

She tightens her grip, metal grinding against metal.

"You tell me what happened or I get it out of you."

He doesn't flinch, just stares back at her with his mouth set and a weird shine to his eyes.

"She stayed back," he says. "One of us had to. She made us draw lots, and... she pulled the short one."

Then he swallows, takes a deep breath, and repeats:

"I'm sorry."

That's when she realizes he's on the verge of tears.

Devil flinches, releases his collar like she's grabbed something hot or sharp, and turns away, which just forces her to face the rest of them.

Sagani's sitting on the ground, her face buried in Itumaak's fur as she holds him close; Hiravias is dusting himself off, turned away so that none of them can see his good eye; Kana's weeping openly, strangely quiet for a guy his size; and Zahua's just staring out at the cracked ice with a look of wonder, or maybe jealousy.

Their grieving faces close in on her like a torch-bearing mob; wherever she turns, there's one of them, driving her back into the fire.

She feels a scream starting somewhere in the back of her mind — no words, just violence with nowhere to put it.

And then, she's cold.

She's cold, and the ground is hard under her feet, and the wind blowing from the crater whistles through the seams of her body, chilling her core, tugging at the tightly wound wires in her faulty right arm, and her chest aches where she'd taken the blow.

The air smells like pitch and smoke and salt.

Her knees buckle and she collapses, the fight knocked out of her at once; there's nothing she can do but stare at her own twitching hands, still bronze, still wrong, and feel.

For a brief, horrible moment she understands everything Zahua had ever said about pain being beautiful.

Then, something clicks and catches inside of her, and the world goes dark.

Devil dreams about home again.

Her face is buried in a rabbit-fur blanket, and she can hear — and smell — a crackling fire nearby.

It's warm.

There's someone sitting on the bed next to her. She pushes the blanket off, sits up to see who it is.

Mae startles, ears flicking up, but quickly relaxes again and smiles at her.

"You woke up," she says. "Thank the gods. I was just about to start worrying I'd messed something up."

Devil doesn't even question it; she doesn't want to.

She reaches for her —

And freezes.

Her arm is bronze, engraved with vine patterns and arcane nonsense, reflecting the light of a fire somewhere to her left.

But she still feels the soft fur and the bedding, and the air smells like wet clothes and healing potions and smoked fish.

Mae takes her outstretched hand in hers, and her hands are warm and rough, just like Devil always dreams them. And, now that Mae's fully turned towards her, she can see the large bruise over almost the entire right side of her face.

Too many things are wrong. Her hands. The smell. Mae's face. Devil's starting to think that —

"How are you feeling?" Mae asks.

— that she's not dreaming this.

"Ain't you dead?" she creaks out.

Mae laughs; there's a tense edge to it.

"I thought I was," she says, and then repeats, her smile fading, "I really thought I was."

Mae looks down — she's still holding her hand — and runs a thumb over the side of Devil's palm.

A shiver goes down her spine.

Mae looks back up, and asks:

"Can you feel this?"

There isn't a single thing Devil can bring herself to say, so she just nods.

Mae exhales and squeezes her hand, bowing her head over it, almost as if in prayer.

"It worked," she whispers.

Devil finally manages to scrape some words together.

She says:

"You did this to me."

Mae shakes her head, looks back up at her.

"Not me," she says. "Abydon. I just asked. It's... a long story, but the gist of it is that I did him a favor, and he said I could ask for one in return. I asked for this."

She lightens her grip on Devil's hand just a little, but she doesn't let go.

Devil stares at her, and tries to understand.

"You... asked for me to feel again?"

Mae shrugs, and gives her a shaky kind of smile Devil hasn't ever seen on her before.

"Well, he said he couldn't make you folk again, and that was his next best offer."

Something strange happens to her.

Her body gets warmer, a strange heat coming from the core in her chest. Things click and turn, and when she tries to speak, just a weird creaking noise comes out.

Devil knows she can't cry, but it feels like she's about to.

She stares down at their hands intertwined on the rabbit fur for a long moment; her ornate bronze, and Mae's small hands that are warm and alive, with faded scars and little tufts of fur on her knuckles.

"Don't know what I done to deserve someone who'd get a wish from a god and waste it on me," she says finally.

Mae squeezes her hand again.

"I just wanted to give you something," she says, her voice shaking as much as her hands are. "I thought I was dying, and I — I didn't want to leave you like that. I wanted my love to be good for something."

"Effigy's eyes, Mae," Devil says. "Come here."

She pulls her into her lap, meeting no resistance, and hugs her.

Mae's warm in her arms, her breathing and heartbeat a long-forgotten rhythm against Devil's chest. She hugs her back, squeezing tightly, and Devil feels it. She feels it.

Devil buries her face in Mae's hair — it's thick and wavy, and warm like the rest of her — and cries without crying.

#pillars of eternity #devil of caroc #devil of caroc x the watcher #orlan watcher #paladin watcher #oc: watcher mae #maevil tag #herearedragons writing

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chiriwritesstuff · 8 months ago

Text

The Girl in IT- 8. The Panic! in the Breakroom (Christine's Version)

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Summary: Joel and Sugar spend some time apart and have serious conversations about their relationship's future. Everything is about to change...

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Reckless Driving, Talks about Periods and Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) and all of the shitty things that could happen with it including blood loss, miscarriage, and painful pregnancies, Someone gets punched (it's Joel, he gets socked in the face), Sugar takes a backseat as chaos ensues, Badass Ellie Miller, Ellie is going through it, Joel is going through it, Sugar's going through it!, Badass Survivalist Bill to the rescue, There is no smut in this chapter (like at all), no beta we die like men!

Word Count: 8.2 K

A/N: Here it is, the first chapter of my big rework, as I mentioned in this post. If you've read the original posting of this chapter, you know it ended with a surprise pregnancy and a proposal. As much as I know many of you enjoyed that outcome, it was also a departure from my true intentions for Sugar and Joel's relationship timeline, which set off a chain reaction for this story. I was afraid of alienating my readers- I thought by avoiding a darker or more heartbreaking storyline, I wouldn't upset anyone and felt like giving a happy ending to this chapter was the right move. Upon reflection, I started to regret it. Trying to censor myself out of fear of losing readers and not staying true to myself is not the way to go, and I've learned from this lesson.

There is a massive plot change in this chapter. Most of the story is the same, but I have included several pivotal moments with Joel and Sugar that will change the tone of the rest of the series. I do promise that we will be getting our happy ending, just at a different pace. This chapter does have some triggering moments, so please read the tags before reading. I also want to note that chapters 9 and 10 will be completely rewritten. I have set those chapters to private as I continue to rework them, and I hope to get those chapters out promptly before we dive into 'My Wife in IT'. Thank you so much for reading and for sticking around. I really do appreciate it.

"The conference should only be a few days, baby," Joel reassures you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the walk-in closet to grab a flannel.

As he starts getting dressed, he catches your lingering gaze and teases, "See something you like, baby?" A mischievous smirk plays on his lips as he zips up his jeans.

Unable to resist, you slide out of bed and join him. Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you pout and playfully protest, "Do you really need to go, though?" You reach around him to button up his shirt, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "The bed will feel so empty without you... and it's kind of weird being here alone."

"Well, with Ellie being in the house I bet you'll hardly feel alone, hell, I can just see her attached to your hip the whole time," Joel replies, spinning around and pulling you into the warmth of his broad chest, kissing the top of your head. "You won't even notice I'm gone when she's around, she'll keep you on your toes plenty."

"Have you spent time with Ellie lately? You know anything could happen when she's around."

Joel smirks, "You've got a point there. I still need to fix the oven from her latest kitchen mishap. But hey, don't stress. If you bring Sir Bubbles along, she'll be entertained for days. It's like she's more attached to him than she is to both of us combined."

"But do you have to go, Joel?" you protest once more, "I'm sure Tommy can handle things; he's a big boy."

Joel raises an intrigued eyebrow. "Bigger than me, Mami?" he murmurs, giving you a little pout.

"No one is bigger than you, Papi," you tease, giving him a wink. Gazing up at the ceiling, a sudden wave of unease twists your expression. You find yourself clutching at your middle, groaning slightly in pain.

"Baby? Are you okay?" Joel is suddenly at your side, his face etched with concern. He pushes your hair out of your face, giving you a small smile.

"I don't want to call it, but I think my period is coming," you reply sadly.

"You would think with all of the times we've tried to get pregnant, surely it would take," you sigh, frowning as you stare at the ceiling, not wanting to face Joel and his disappointment. "I'm sorry, Papi."

"Why are you apologizing to me, Sugar? We have all the time in the world! Besides, I'm loving all of the attempts," he wiggles his eyebrows, pressing a kiss on your forehead. I'm more concerned about your health than anything else, okay?"

"Okay. I'm just worried because we're not getting any younger, and I don't think your knees can handle chasing a toddler," You tease, pulling him into a slow and languid kiss.

"I'll have you know, all of this sex we've been having has given me a new lease on life, I haven't worked out so much in my damn life! I'm in my prime, baby." Joel runs a hand through his hair as he walks over to the bedroom door, scanning the hallway for Ellie. He turns back to look at you on the bed. "Promise me you'll see a doctor if you get any worse?"

"I can't make any promises-"

"Sugar, I'm serious. If you start to get worse, you call Ellie and have her take you to the doctor. I mean it, baby. Please. Just put my mind at ease, okay?"

"Okay."

"Ellie!" Joel's voice echoes down the hallway. "Come here for a second!"

"Yeah?" Ellie pops her head out of her bedroom door. "Are you heading out now?" She strolls out, securing her hair into a ponytail as she settles beside you on Joel's bed. "Hey, why don't we swing by your place after the old man leaves to pick up my buddy? I can't wait for Sir Bubbles to see his new cat jungle!"

You flinch slightly, adjusting into a seated position next to Ellie. "Sure thing. We can grab some lunch on the way, too."

Joel clears his throat, retrieving something from his dresser and handing it to you with a smile. "I've been meaning to give this to you sooner, but since I'm leaving for a few days-"

You open the envelope he hands you, eyes widening at the realization that he's giving you an American Express card that matches his, your name etched onto the metal surface. "Woah, Joel, I don't think this is necessary-"

"If you're going to be spending time under this roof while I'm gone, I don't want you using your own money for things like groceries and necessities, especially if it's for you and Ellie. Use this card while I'm away; go to the mall and go wild," he glances at Ellie, who grins conspiratorially. "But no more guitars, Ellie. Not after the last time."

"How was I supposed to know the guitar was $10,000? The one in your office is twice the amount, I swear!" Ellie groans, knocking her shoulder against yours. "I'm sure Sugar will keep me in check, you have nothing to worry about, old man!"

"Hey, are you ready yet, asshole?" Tommy's voice suddenly booms from the front door. "We needed to head to Waco ten minutes ago!" he exclaims.

Joel sticks his head out of his bedroom door. "Yeah, just give me a damn second!" Grabbing his weekender duffle, he presses a kiss on your cheek. "Okay baby, I need to go. I'll see you in two days, okay?"

"Okay," you reply with a smile, pulling him into a kiss. "... and don't worry, nothing bad is going to happen to me, okay? Promise."

"Reservation for Miller," Joel tells the hotel receptionist, retrieving his wallet from his back pocket to produce his Amex. "It should be under Joel Miller."

"Welcome back Mr. Miller!" The receptionist beams, tapping away at her computer. "Let me just pull up your reservation. Give me a moment... Ah, yes, reservation for Joel Miller, one room, two keys."

"Wait, hold on," Tommy interjects, nudging Joel aside. "What do you mean one room?"

"The reservation for Miller only indicates one room," the receptionist replies with a sweet smile, her head cocked to one side.

"Well, there must be some mistake, miss." Joel's brows furrow with concern.

The receptionist glances at the screen, her brow furrowing slightly. "I apologize for any confusion, but that's how it's listed in our system. One room, two keys for Mr. Joel Miller."

Tommy exchanges a perplexed look with Joel, a touch of frustration evident. "Look, we need two separate rooms. Must've been a mix-up. Can you check again or maybe offer us an additional room?"

The receptionist hesitates for a moment before typing away on her keyboard. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Let me see if there's anything available." After a brief pause, she looks up. "I'm afraid we're fully booked tonight, with the conference and all, and the reservation is for a single room. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

"Please tell me there's at least a cot or a pull-out couch in the room," Tommy groans, shaking his head.

The Receptionist hesitates, giggling awkwardly. "Well, there's a king-size bed? I guess it's pretty spacious?"

Joel and Tommy exchange glances, silently communicating their dissatisfaction with the situation. "Alright, fine," Joel concedes with a sigh. "We'll make do with what we have. But this better not become a habit."

The receptionist offers an apologetic smile. "I assure you, Mr. Miller, we'll do our best to make your stay enjoyable. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask."

Joel and Tommy head towards the elevator, resigned to share a room for the night. As they walk away, Joel mutters to Tommy, "We'll sort this out tomorrow. Let's just get some rest for now."

"I guess it'll be like old times, brother, sharing a room and all," Tommy grunts. "I swear, if you snuggle up with me or fart in the sheets, I'll punch you right in the balls."

"If my memory serves me right, weren't you the one sneaking into my bed when things got a bit dicey in the night?" Joel retorts, arching an eyebrow while casually checking his emails on his iPhone. "Oh, Joel, I'm so scared of the boogeyman, can I sleep with you tonight?!" he imitates in an attempt at a childish voice, smirking.

"It's really gonna be like that, huh? You're gonna play that card? What about that time after we watched 'A Nightmare on Elm Street'? Weren't you begging Mama to let you sleep in her bed, thinking Freddy's gonna suck you up from your bed like Johnny Depp? Am I gonna wake up to you screaming?"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, Tommy, you ass-" The elevator dings to their floor, a family staring back at them. Tommy clears his throat, navigating around the family, shooting Joel a look as he heads to the room. "Evenin'," Joel murmurs, tipping his head to the family. "Excuse me."

Tommy is already in the room by the time Joel casually strolls in, rummaging through the welcome basket the conference organizers had prepared for Joel. "Well, it's nice of you to grace us with your presence, 'Mr. Austin's Entrepreneur of the Year 2023,'" he teases, extracting a bottle of Johnny Walker. "At least they give you the decent shit." Taking a swig straight from the bottle, he hands it over to Joel.

"Nah, I'm not drinking tonight," Joel murmurs, dropping his weekender unceremoniously on the floor as he plops onto the bed, pinching the space between his eyebrows. "I want to stay sober just in case Sugar calls me."

Tommy takes another swig, settling on the couch beside the window with a view of the city of Waco. "I noticed that she was looking a bit pale. Something going on?"

"She told me that she's about to start her period, I'm assuming that they can be quite an ordeal," Joel muses, glancing at his phone screen displaying a photo of you and him at your birthday dinner. A smile creeps across his face as he observes the image, capturing the moment when you kissed his cheek while he smiled at the camera. "I just have a really weird feeling like something's wrong," he groans, stretching his back onto the mattress.

"Well, Sugar's a big girl; I'm sure she'll be okay. Hell, I know how periods go, with Maria and all. Maybe I'll have her check in just in case." Tommy looks out of the window. "This is nice, you know. The two of us. Feels like it's been ages since we've done something like this."

"That's because the last time we were like this, it was your bachelor weekend in Vegas, and you ditched me and fucked off on some strip club crawl with your friends," Joel chides. "Then you had the fucking audacity to crawl into my bed, only to throw up on me in the middle of the night."

"I told you I was sorry! Shit, you could have come out with us, but you were still hung up on Sugar, even then. I don't know if that girl knows just how much you've loved her all these years."

"All that matters is she knows how much I love her now. Besides, I think it's only a matter of time before I ask her to marry me," Joel muses, revealing a ring from his jeans pocket.

Tommy's eyes widen at the sight of the diamond ring, whistling. "Shit, Joel, you're serious. How many carats is that puppy?"

"Just about 2 carats. Do you think she'll like it?" Joel asks nervously.

"I think she would say yes even without that rock; the girl's been crazy about you."

"I'm scared shitless, to be honest," Joel murmurs. "Never would have thought I would be put in this situation again, getting married and all... wondering if it's the right thing to do since my first marriage crashed and burned."

"Well, it's not like you married for love the first time around," Tommy muses, taking another swig.

"Now I have a second lease on life, time to get married for real. For love, this time."

"So, you get the girl, you ask her to marry you. But what about after that?" Tommy asks, taking another swig of Jimmy Bean. "... are you guys planning on having any kids? Do you want any more kids? You're not getting any younger, brother. Surely you don't want to be chasing some toddler when you're pushing 60-"

"I mean, we talked about the prospect of having kids, Sugar's only 36. I'm not gonna deny her of something she may want because I'm older than her." Joel responds with a heavy sigh. "Truthfully, I would give her anything she wanted, no questions asked... but sometimes I think to myself, what about our kids? I don't want to die before they become adults, you know?"

"... but is kids something that she wants? Sugar's a beautiful woman, surely if she wanted a family, she would have already gotten one, you know?" Tommy muses, chuckling to himself. "Maybe she would have gotten her head out of her ass sooner and sought you out beforehand."

"What are you trying to say, Tommy?"

"I'm saying, maybe before you ask her to marry you, you both have all of your cards on the table, brother."

"What if she wants kids, though? What if she wants a family, and I'm too old to give it to her? I don't want to lose her, I can't lose her. Not when I've just gotten her. I didn't work hard for these last ten years only for me to lose the girl because I can't give her what she wants."

"I have a feeling you don't have to worry about losing her, Joel. I do think that you should talk to her, at least."

Joel nods, a knot forming in his stomach as he contemplates Tommy's words. "Yeah, you're right. I need to have an honest conversation with Sugar about this. I owe her that much."

Tommy claps Joel on the shoulder, offering a reassuring smile. "She loves you, man. Just be open and honest with her, and I'm sure you two will figure it out together."

"Yeah, I hope so," Joel murmurs, a mixture of determination and anxiety swirling within him.

"So, what's the plan for dinner tonight?" Ellie asks, idly toying with Sir Bubbles by the towering cat tree in the family room. "I was thinking of whipping up some homemade Hot Pockets. I saw Sam snacking on them the other day, and they smelled divine!"

"You know, Ellie, you could just buy them at Randalls for $2 instead of going through the trouble of making them."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" She grabs her phone, tapping away at Safari. "I found a great recipe that seems easy enough! Why don't we head to Randalls and grab the ingredients I need?"

"The whole beauty of Hot Pockets is the convenience," you groan, shifting on the sofa while flipping through channels. You wince as you manage to sit up. "You're not one to do things half-assed, are you?"

"I'm a Miller; we don't do things halfway. We must embrace chaos in all its glory, you know?" She glances at you from the corner of her eye, frowning at your pained form. "Are you sure you're okay? You look really uncomfortable sitting there."

You offer her a small smile through the discomfort. "Yeah, I'm just fine. It's that time of the month for me, always a bit uncomfortable."

Ellie nods in agreement. "Yeah, I hate it when I have my period. The cramps, especially! How do you deal with it? Midol?"

"Well, I have a condition that makes periods hell for me," you admit.

"PCOS is a beast I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. It's like period symptoms on steroids, honestly. Bad cramps, nausea, heavy period flow, the whole nine yards and then some."

Ellie frowns at that. "How long have you had PCOS?"

"Since my mid-twenties?" you muse, scrolling through your phone. "It's been a while, that's for sure."

"Bullshit! That's like a decade! How can you deal with such painful periods like that every month? I would be yelling at the doctors to rip my uterus out!" Ellie pets Sir Bubbles, her face deep in thought. "I heard that women who have PCOS have a hard time conceiving. Is that why you haven't had any kids yet?"

You snort. "Yeah, well, I haven't been trying to have kids, either."

"But I bet it's different now that you're with Joel, huh? I bet he's been wanting to knock you up since you agreed to be with him," she smirks. "I mean, for someone who built his own house, you'd think he would insulate the walls a little more, make it more soundproof-"

"Ellie-" you grit through your teeth, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"What? I know it's just human nature to want to be intimate with your partner-"

"Ellie, deciding to have kids is a big step in any relationship. It's something that changes your life forever."

"...and is that something you want, Sugar? To have kids?"

"I don't know what I want, really," you respond truthfully, shrugging. "I never really allowed myself to think about the future like this before, and now that I'm with Joel... it's making me question whether or not I would be a good mother. I... I didn't grow up in the most nurturing home when I was a kid, but I do remember promising myself that if I were to have any kids, I wouldn't raise them the way my parents did."

"That's understandable," Ellie quips thoughtfully, settling herself into the couch as she faces you. "I don't think I would ever want kids. It seems so freaking scary and overwhelming; I can't fathom the kind of pressure you're feeling about it. Have you talked to Joel about this?"

"We've talked about it," you admit, the weight of uncertainty evident in your voice. "I don't know if he wants kids, but I'm just not sure if I'm ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready, you know? I'm scared of disappointing him. What if he sees it as a deal-breaker?"

Ellie nods sympathetically, her demeanor softening. "I get it, Sugar. It's a tough spot to be in. But Joel loves you for you, not for whether you want kids or not. And if he's the right guy, he'll understand your concerns and respect your feelings. Joel's a lot, but I know that this man would do anything for you. I don't think you have anything to worry about. Trust me, I live with the guy."

You exhale slowly, feeling a bit lighter with Ellie's reassurance. "Thanks, Ellie. I guess I need to talk to Joel and figure things out."

"Exactly," Ellie responds with a hopeful smile. "Communication is key. Just be honest with him, and who knows? Maybe you two can find a way through this together."

"You know, you're pretty wise for a little shit, but I do appreciate the words of wisdom, Ellie Bellie. Maybe you're not so bad after all," you tease, a chuckle escaping your lips. "Thanks for the armchair therapy. Should we get a move on to buy the ingredients for these hot pockets of yours?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ellie sighs. "We might as well head to Target, so we can get some Midol too. Grab your key; I'm driving! Can't have you navigating these streets in your condition. Plus, I've been meaning to take the Tessie out on a joyride!"

The next morning, you wake up to find blood on the sheets. Panic grips you as a sharp, stabbing pain surges through your lower body, causing you to double over in agony. You suppress tears as you carefully slip out of Joel's bed, realizing that your flow was so heavy it soaked through to the mattress. Gathering the sheets, you remove your stained pajamas and underwear, wrapping yourself in a towel to avoid waking Ellie down the hall.

On tiptoes, you make your way to the laundry room, groaning with each step. After depositing the soiled linens and clothes into the wash, you hobble back to Joel's bedroom. Sighing, you enter the bathroom and draw a hot bath. Glancing at your phone, it's 5:34 am. You meet your reflection in the mirror, eyes widening at the sight—your skin is pale and clammy. Quickly splashing water on your face, you try to shake off the discomfort.

You recall your recent FaceTime with Joel. You remember the sadness and concern in his eyes as he saw your pain. It's not like any period you've experienced before.

"Baby, I really think you should go to the ER," he pleads. "Wake Ellie up, have her take you-"

"It's just my period, Joel," you assure him, smiling through the pain to ease his worry. "Sometimes they get really bad, maybe this time is one of those times."

"I just wish you wouldn't be so stubborn, Mami. This is really concerning, maybe I should drive back-"

"I just think I should sleep it off. If it's not any better, I'll go to the hospital, okay? Sleep makes everything better," you promise, knowing your stubbornness may hold true. It's not new to you, but how is Joel to know?

"I wish I could keep you on FaceTime all night, just to make sure you're okay, but I don't want to keep you up with all of Tommy's snoring-"

"I'll be fine, baby, don't worry. You have a big day tomorrow, Austin's Entrepreneur of the Year," you tease, hoping to divert the conversation. "I love you so much, Papi. I wish you were here with me."

"I wish I was too, baby," Joel smiles. "Call me tomorrow? And please, if it doesn't get any better-"

"... I'll go straight to the doctor. I promise."

"Hey, Sugar, you don't look too hot."

"I'm fine, Ellie. Just a little headache," you assure her, managing a weak smile while holding up your Owala water bottle. "Probably just dehydrated, nothing a little water can't fix. I also got my period last night, and it always gives me problems. It's just a bit heavier than usual."

Ellie eyes you with concern. "Maybe it's time we get it checked out. Joel did say-"

"I know, Ellie, but I'm already behind on my reports, and Tess will flip if I don't finish them by the end of the day. I'll tough it out. If it gets worse, I promise I'll get myself checked out. I'll even let you drive me there, okay? Let's just keep this between us for now. I wouldn't want to bother Joel by being a baby about period cramps."

"Well, could you at least try to eat something? I swear the last time I saw you eat was yesterday. Joel's gonna kill me if something happens to you, and I really don't need that kind of stress right now. Not before the apprentice exam," Ellie urges, sliding her glass container into the microwave. "Besides, you can try out the Hot Pockets we made last night!"

"Isn't this supposed to be the other way around? I'm the adult in this equation; I should be looking over you, not the other way around," you chuckle. "What would Joel say if he saw us right now?"

"He would give us his best frowny face and bridal carry you out of here, taking you to the doctor," she replies, taking the seat across from you. "I'm not lying when I tell you that you look sick as hell. You should be at home, resting! I'm really worried about you, Sugar. For real this time. You need to at least eat something so you don't pass out!"

She places one of her creations on a plate, presenting it in front of you with a flourish as she begins to devour her own, inhaling it in a few bites. "Damn, that was good," she exclaims to herself, leaning back in her chair, taking a sip of her Baja Blast. "Come on, Sugar," she pleads, "Eat!"

You take a deep breath as you eye the hot pocket, your stomach churning at the overwhelming smell. With a hesitant smile, you lift it off your plate, taking a small, careful bite to avoid offending Ellie. "Mmm," you say softly, placing it back onto your plate. "You really outdid yourself this time, Ellie!" you commend, pushing the plate away. However, the effort to conceal your discomfort becomes futile as your head starts to spin when you attempt to stand.

Ellie's eyes widen as she quickly rises from her seat. "Sugar-"

"Ellie, I'll be right-"

Before you can reach the door, everything turns black.

"Sugar!" Ellie screams, dropping to her knees as she attempts to lift you, panic evident in her voice. "Somebody, help!"

Bill bursts through the door in an instant, his eyes wild as he assesses the situation. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know!" Ellie exclaims, cradling your head in her lap as tears stream down her face. "She wasn't looking too good, so I gave her a hot pocket, and she took one bite and fainted! What am I going to do? Joel's going to freak!"

"Bill?" Frank calls out as he enters the breakroom. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Frank," he says calmly, "Call 911. Tell them that someone passed out." He turns his attention back to Ellie, his eyes focused. "Ellie, do you know if she hit her head?" Ellie is frozen in place, her breathing erratic, the weight of the situation settling in.

"Ellie!" Bill shouts, trying to maintain control. "Focus! Did she hit her head or not?"

"I don't know!" she says shakily, her hands trembling. "Everything happened so fast!"

"Bill," Frank says uneasily, "She's bleeding," he points to your lower body, his eyes widening in fear. "It's a lot of blood, fuck, is she... what if-"

"Fuck this!" Bill mutters, urgency in his voice as he picks up your limp body. "Frank, get the van, we need to go to the hospital, NOW." He looks over at Ellie, who is crying uncontrollably. "Ellie, call Joel."

"But Sugar begged me not to call Joel-"

"Joel won't forgive you if you keep him in the dark. Get him on the phone, NOW," he commands, darting towards the door behind Frank. "... and pick up the pace! You're coming with us!"

Ellie grabs her phone from her back pocket, her hands shaking as she scrambles to call Joel. She curses as it goes straight to voicemail. "He's not answering! It's going straight to voicemail-"

"THEN CALL TOMMY, ELLIE!" he shouts as Frank parks near the entrance, engine still running. He hurries out of the driver's seat, opening the back door. "Ellie, sit here! I need you to elevate her head!"

Ellie jumps into the car, phone in hand. Bill gently places you in the van, positioning your head across Ellie's lap. "Keep it elevated, okay?" Ellie nods, looking at you with concern. "Do you think she's going to be okay?" she whispers, placing a hand on your cheek. "This is all my fault-"

"Ellie," Bill says, heading toward the driver's seat. "This is not the time for that," he steps on the gas, swerving to avoid an oncoming vehicle. "Put Tommy on the phone, now!"

Ellie fumbles with her phone, quickly dialing Tommy's number. As the line rings, Bill navigates the van through the chaotic streets, tension thick in the air.

"Come on, Tommy, pick up," Ellie mutters anxiously, glancing at you still cradled in her lap. After a few tense moments, Tommy's voice crackles through the phone.

"Ellie? What's happening?"

"It's Sugar. We're on our way to the hospital. Something's wrong," Ellie replies, her voice shaky. "I tried to call Joel but it's going straight to voicemail! Could you put him on the line? Please!"

"Shit, Ellie-" Tommy stammers, "He's about to go on stage-"

"What's going on?" Joel notices Tommy's unease. "Who is it?"

Tommy hesitates as he puts the phone on speaker. "It's Ellie, something's happened at the office-"

"Joel? Dad?" Ellie cries, her voice quivering.

"Ellie? Baby girl, what's wrong?" Joel asks worriedly, peering out to the stage as the emcee begins. "Baby, what's going on?!"

"It's Sugar, something happened at lunch-" she sobs, looking down at your pale form.

Tommy's eyes widen as he witnesses Joel's demeanor change rapidly. "Ellie, what happened to Sugar?" he soothes, trying to get her to calm down through her sobs. "Come on baby, breathe-"

"She passed out at work! I know, she shouldn't have gone in, but she swore that she was fine! I tried to get her to eat something and she looked sick all of a sudden... and then she was on the ground, bleeding! It all happened so fast, I swear! I'm so sorry, Dad! It's all my fault!" she cries.

"Joel," Bill cuts in, honking as he narrowly misses a car he overtakes. "I'm heading over to Austin General, ETA 2 minutes. She's lost a lot of blood." He runs a red light, a barrage of horns erupting from the maneuver. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to get her there."

"You're driving her there? Why didn't you call 911?" Joel demands.

"They would have taken too long, Joel. Minutes we do not have. Trust me, I'll get her there faster than they could," Bill hesitates. "Joel, I think she's-" The line cuts off as Ellie's phone dies.

"BILL? ELLIE??!" Joel screams into the phone frantically as he runs his hand through his hair. He tries to call Ellie back, only to be met with voicemail. "Fuck!" he shouts, trying to call Bill. "Why aren't they answering?"

"Joel, you're gonna have to tell me what the fuck is going on-"

"Sugar collapsed at work. They're on their way to Austin General now. Grab your shit, we're leaving."

[and it's with my great pleasure to introduce you to our keynote speaker and Austin's Entrepreneur of the Year, Joel Miller!]

"Okay Mr. Miller," the assistant interrupts, hand on his earpiece. "You're up!"

"I have a family emergency, I need to leave," Joel replies, attempting to make a quick exit.

"No can do, Mr. Miller; it's your turn!" The assistant insists, pushing Joel towards the door.

"Are you deaf?!" Joel shouts, forcefully removing the assistant's hands from him. "I already told you, my wife is being taken to the hospital right now-"

"Just get on stage, say your piece for five minutes, and then you can go straight to the hospital," the assistant insists, shoving Joel towards the door, unfazed.

Joel's frustration boils over, and he shoves the assistant back, his anger reaching its peak. "Listen, I don't give a damn about your schedule! My wife needs me, and I'm not wasting another second here!"

The assistant, angered by Joel's defiance, clenches his fists. "You're not going anywhere until you fulfill your obligations. This is important!"

"Joel, we don't have time for this!" Tommy grits, glaring at the assistant. "If we leave now, we can miss the rush on 1-35."

The assistant grabs Joel's forearm, pulling him as he makes his way towards the door that leads to the stage. "You're getting on that stage, give your fucking speech, and then you can fuck off and get to your little wife-"

Joel pulls himself out of his grasp. "Are you fucking kidding me? Don't put your hands on me!"

The man glares at Joel. "Look asshole, we fucking paid for you to come here, and you're not going to make some half-assed excuse about your sick wife-"

Joel's patience snaps, and he throws a punch, hitting the guy square in the face. "Don't talk about my wife like that!"

"Fuck! You broke my fucking nose!" he shouts, tackling Joel to the ground. He manages to land one good punch before Tommy intervenes, pulling the man off of him and shoving him to the ground. "What the fuck is your problem, man?" he yells as he tries to get up.

"Joel, are you okay? Come on, let's get the fuck out of here before they call someone!" Tommy hoists Joel onto his feet, his lip split and a bruise forming on his cheek. They run towards the parking garage, Tommy throwing his keys at Joel as they jump in, peeling out of the parking stall. At the corner of Joel's eyes, he sees security guards running along the lot, searching for them.

"Stop!" one of the guards yells, trying to block the truck at the exit. Joel swerves around, narrowly avoiding the guard as they pass the parking attendant booth. He hits the gas, driving through the parking arms, pieces flying over the dashboard as they merge onto the main road. "Joel, think they'll chase us?" Tommy asks, the tension thick as they speed away. "I don't think Maria will appreciate watching us on a high-speed chase on the evening news-"

"Shut the fuck up, Tommy!" Joel cuts him off, navigating towards the freeway out of Waco, heading to Austin. "Just let me fucking concentrate on the road!"

"Slow down, Joel! Dying on the way there won't help anyone!" Tommy yells as Joel narrowly avoids a car while speeding down the freeway. Fortunately, no police cars are chasing them as they make their way towards Austin. "I can't believe that guy wanted to fight you, and you just started throwing punches!"

"Tommy, not now," Joel grits his teeth, gripping the wheel tightly. "I knew I should've stayed home. If I were there, then-"

Tommy's phone rings, displaying Sarah's face on the screen. He answers the Facetime call, and Sarah's concerned face fills the screen. "Where are you guys?" she asks nervously. "Ellie's phone died, but the hospital just called asking for information. You're her emergency contact, Dad."

"Do you know what's going on?" Joel inquires as he navigates down the freeway. "I don't have my phone, but we're on I-35 right now, should be there in about 30 minutes."

"They can't release any information because we're not family," she says hesitantly. "I'm legally supposed to call her parents, but-"

"You can't call them, Baby. She wouldn't want them there. Tell them she's my wife, and I'm on my way," Joel insists.

"Dad, I don't think we should lie about that-" Sarah expresses her concern.

"I'm all she has, baby. I can't be kept in the dark. Were you there when it happened?"

"No, but Dad, she was bleeding. There was a lot of blood-"

"Damn it!" Joel slams his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes wide as he overtakes a few cars, stepping on the gas. "I should've followed my gut and stayed home. She was already in pain when I left yesterday!"

"Well, speeding down the freeway isn't helping, Dad!" Sarah shouts through the phone. "We're all concerned for Sugar, not just you. I sent Tess to the hospital to bring chargers and Bill and Frank's phones. I need you to relax; it's not going to help her if you two get into an accident!"

"I can't help it, baby girl. I love her, and it's hard to think straight. All I'm thinking about is how scared I am. I can't lose her. I've already known how it feels losing her all these years; I don't think I can survive a second time."

"I know, Dad," Sarah replies. "Just get to her in one piece, okay? I'll let you know if I hear anything back."

"What do you mean I can't go in with her?" Ellie groans, attempting to keep pace with the gurney as they rush you down the hallway towards a room, with Bill and Frank following behind.

The doctor raises an eyebrow at her. "Are you her family?"

"She's my sister!" Ellie asserts. "I was adopted by her family!"

"Doctor," the nurse interjects urgently. "She's lost a lot of blood; she's going to need a transfusion... she might be in the middle of a hemorrhage-"

"If you know she needs a transfusion, then what are you waiting for?"

"The patient has O Negative, and we don't have any on hand-"

"I have O Negative!" Ellie tells the nurse, showing her wrist. "I found out my blood type after an accident as a kid. Take it from me, please!"

The doctor eyes Ellie warily. "... and you're sure she's your sister?"

"Not by blood, but by heart. Please, doctor. She's important to me, and I know she would do the same for me in a heartbeat," Ellie pleads.

The doctor sighs, nodding his head in agreement. "Fine, if you say that she's your sister, then I'll just take your word for it. Nurse, prep her for a blood draw. She's a match."

"Hey! You can't park here!" The hospital security guard shouts as Joel and Tommy hastily exit the car, leaving it right outside the ER. Joel sprints through the hospital, Tommy trailing behind him. He reaches the receptionist's stand, his chest heaving. "Where is she? Where is my wife?!" he demands, attempting to jump over the partition, with Tommy trying to hold him back.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down," the receptionist replies, glaring at both of them. "I'm going to need a name."

Joel hesitates but states your first name, adding 'Miller' as your last. Tommy shoots him a look, signaling the obvious lie, but Joel gives him a warning glare. The receptionist's eyes narrow at Joel. "She was just brought in 20 minutes ago. She's currently under observation but will be put in a room soon. Should be room 203. You can wait for her if you'd like."

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"I don't, but the attending Doctor should be with her. He could answer any of your questions," she hands him a clipboard. "I'm going to need you to fill this out for me with her information, and then you can head down the hall and take a left. Her room should be a few doors down that corridor." She assesses his disheveled state. "Sir, are you needing assistance as well?"

"I'm fine," Joel dismisses her as he fills out the form. He takes out his Amex and hands it to the receptionist. "I don't have her insurance card, but please put all charges on this card."

The receptionist's eyes widen at the color of his Amex. "Certainly, sir."

Joel strides down the hallway towards room 203, catching a glimpse of Ellie in the room adjacent to yours, a nurse tending to her bandaged wrist. His heart lurches at the sight, but he pushes the worry aside for the moment. As he approaches your room, he sees Bill and Frank sitting on a nearby bench, their expressions heavy with concern. Frank rests his head on Bill's shoulder, a distant sadness clouding his eyes.

"Bill!" Joel's voice echoes in the hallway. "Thank you for bringing her here!" He notices their somber demeanor and furrows his brow. "What happened-"

Bill hesitates, his gaze flickering with reluctance. "Joel, I think it's best if you go inside and talk to the doctor," he suggests softly, his voice strained with emotion. "He'll be able to explain everything to you." He offers a weak smile, though it fails to mask the worry etched on his face. "Frank and I are gonna head back to the office, alright?"

"Yeah," Joel stammers, nodding. "Thanks again, Bill... for everything."

"Anytime, Joel," Bill responds, his eyes watery. "Take care of her, okay? She's gonna need you."

Joel's stomach churns with apprehension, but he nods in understanding. With a final glance at Bill and Frank, he takes a deep breath and steps into your room, steeling himself for whatever news awaits him. He nods as he walks into your hospital room, audibly gasping at the sight of you, unconscious. A doctor is tending to you, engaged in conversation with a nurse. He turns around at the sound of the gasp.

"Mr. Miller, I presume?"

"What's going on with her, Doc?" Joel asks, his face reflecting a mix of worry and tears.

The doctor eyes Joel silently, a heavy sigh escaping from his chest.

"Why are you not telling me anything? She's my wife-"

The doctor, catching on to Joel's distress, gives a serious look. "Mr. Miller, let's maintain a level of seriousness here."

"But she's practically my wife! I'd give my life for her, you understand? Please, man to man, wouldn't you do the same for someone you love?" he pleads, Tommy, looking away from his brother to keep himself from breaking down.

The doctor, unyielding, emphasizes, "We have legal protocols to safeguard those who can't speak for themselves. I can't divulge information to just anyone; there are procedures that must be followed for the well-being of the patient."

"Well, what can you tell me, then?" Joel's voice wavers as he pleads with the doctor. "I'm in the dark here, doctor. Please," Joel begs. "Just give me something. Tell me she's going to be okay."

The doctor takes a deep breath before delivering the news, "She was pregnant, Mr. Miller. She has Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and is anemic. Due to significant blood loss, we had to perform a blood transfusion. Luckily, someone who accompanied her was a match."

Joel's heart sinks as the words hit him like a ton of bricks. "Was? So, Sugar and the baby... Are they okay?"

The doctor's demeanor shifts, his eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and gravity. "Mr. Miller," he begins cautiously, "Sugar lost a lot of blood during the procedure. She was suffering from a hemorrhage and was going into shock. I did everything in my power to save them both, but... I'm sorry, Mr. Miller. The baby didn't make it. Sugar almost didn't make it out herself. Without that blood transfusion-" He trails off, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air.

"Ellie..." Joel whispers, realization dawning on him as he connects the dots. "That's why she's bandaged up?"

The doctor leans in, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "Yes," he confirms, his tone somber. "What we did was highly unethical and illegal. I don't appreciate being lied to, but your daughter's quick thinking saved Sugar's life. Despite the miscarriage, Ellie's actions kept Sugar alive. It was incredibly brave of her. I'm willing to keep this between us if any issues arise. Sugar is still with us because of her. That girl has nerves of steel," he chuckles softly, his gaze distant with memories. "Reminds me of my daughter. Us fathers need to stick together, right?"

Joel nods, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on you lying on the hospital bed. "I knew something was wrong... I should have stayed back. I can't imagine the pain she must have been in-"

"Unfortunately, this is highly common for women with her condition," the doctor interjects, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "As much as we can dwell on the what-ifs, most times the baby won't make it past the first trimester. It does give us a little hope that she was able to conceive to begin with. Have you two been trying long?"

Joel's shoulders sag slightly at the doctor's words, a mixture of grief and understanding washing over him. "We've spoken about it, but only decided to try recently," he admits, his voice tinged with sadness. "But we never imagined it would end like this."

The doctor offers a sympathetic nod, his expression reflecting empathy. "I'm sorry for your loss, Joel. Losing a child is never easy, but please know that you're not alone in this. If either of you need support or someone to talk to, we have resources available. I want to have Sugar spend a day or two here, just to make sure her blood count gets back to normal. You're welcome to stay as long as you need to, okay? I'll make sure of it."

Joel manages a faint smile, grateful for the doctor's compassion. "Thank you," he murmurs, his gaze drifting back to you, his heart heavy with sorrow yet filled with love and determination.

The doctor nods, glancing at Joel's disheveled appearance and the split lip. "I can get someone to fix that for you if you'd like. Waking up to see you like this might frighten Sugar. You must have been through hell to get here."

"Pretty much," Tommy says sadly, his eyes filled with tears. "Thank you for saving Sugar, doc. We really owe you one."

The doctor nods. "Yeah, well, thank your little girl; she's the real hero today." He gestures behind Tommy and Joel. Ellie stands at the doorway, nervously fiddling with the bandage on her wrist. Giving Joel one last nod, the doctor makes his way to the door, giving Ellie a comforting pat on her shoulder as he walks away. Joel turns his attention back to Ellie, a sad look on his face as he tries not to lose his shit in front of his brother and his daughter.

"Ellie-" he starts, his voice shaky. "Baby-"

"Oh, it was nothing, you know, just another day at the office," she casually says, downplaying herself. "Besides, she's family, and we do anything for family."

"You're damn right we do," Tommy boasts, pulling Ellie into a side hug. "You saved the day, Girlie."

"You sure did," Joel cries, pulling her into a tight hug, his tears soaking into her hair. "You did so good, baby girl. Thank you, thank you, baby."

Ellie hugs Joel back, sobbing into his chest and clinging to his shirt. "I was so scared, Joel. It made me think about what happened with Marlene, and I just froze! If Bill didn't step in, I don't know what would have happened—"

"Ellie—"

"... and I told her that she should tell you. She looked so sick, so I told her that she needed to eat something, and I gave her a hot pocket—"

"A hot pocket?"

"Yeah, we made it last night, and even then, I knew something was up. She was always wincing and flinching in pain, told me that she was on her period—"

"Ellie. She was bleeding out, then. It—" Joel takes her face in his hands, his expression serious. "She was pregnant, baby girl. She has a condition that makes her bleed heavily. Fuck, she must have been in so much pain—"

"Wait," Ellie says, her eyes reflecting shock. "What do you mean, she was pregnant? Does this mean that she lost the baby?" she says solemnly, turning her attention to you. "Joel, I'm so sorry, maybe if I had been more stubborn and firm with her, maybe-"

"Ellie, trust me when I say that none of this was your fault, baby girl," Joel pulls her into his chest as she sobs, his hand soothing her back. "These things happen all the time with women that have the same condition as her. Honestly, I'm just happy that she had you to watch over her, you did everything perfectly, alright? No more tears, baby. Sugar's still here with us, and that's all that matters, okay?"

"Okay," Ellie murmurs into his chest. "Joel, what's going to happen now? are you going to tell her? We need to tell her, right?"

"Why don't you head back to the office with Tommy and let me worry about that, alright?" Joel responds, sighing as he sits at the edge of your bed. "I think you've had too much excitement for one day, I can talk to her when she wakes up, okay? Don't worry."

Tommy places a comforting hand on Joel's shoulder, pulling him into a side hug. "I'm really sorry, brother. If there's anything you both need, just let me know, okay?"

Joel nods. "Thanks, Tommy."

"Ready to go, Ellie?" Tommy asks, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "We better get moving before they tow my truck out front." Ellie nods as they both give you and Joel one last glance, making their way out of your hospital room.

"Let me know if you need me to bring you anything from home, alright?" Ellie tells Joel, giving him one last smile. "Take care of yourself. I love you."

"I love you too, baby. Get some rest, okay?"

Joel looks back at them helplessly as a sob escapes his mouth. He buries his face in his hands, finally allowing himself to fall completely apart. As heartbreaking as the miscarriage is, the thought of losing you at the same time is unbearable. How could he have turned a blind eye to the pain you were going through? How could he have almost lost you, just like that? The guilt and anguish weigh heavily on his shoulders as he grapples with the harsh reality of the situation.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he cries, reaching for your hand. Joel presses a soft kiss on your forehead, his tears falling upon your face. He wipes them away as he settles himself on the seat next to your bed, his eyes never leaving your face as he waits for you to wake up. Every fiber of his being yearns for you to open your eyes, to assure him that you're still here, still fighting alongside him.

Taglist: @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat@gwendibleywrites@brittmb115@joeldjarin@drewharrisonwriter@littlebunnybigheartfics

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#pedro pascal #the girl in it #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller fic #joel miller x Sugar

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